


A Change of Heart

by geethr75



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Canon Divergence, Harrymort - Freeform, M/M, tomarry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-15 21:58:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 45
Words: 31,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8074180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geethr75/pseuds/geethr75
Summary: Voldemort decided to use Harry's blood to regenerate himself.... but he had not expected the consequences...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea that I had for such a long time. The response for my other Harry Potter ff had emboldened me to finally write this. Please read and comment.

The moment he touched the boy, Voldemort knew he’d blundered. And what’s worse, it was caused due to ignorance. And that was unacceptable. Ignorance was not a trait either for Tom Marvolo Riddle or for Lord Voldemort. Ambition, yes; Hunger for power, yes; Cold-bloodedness, yes; but not ignorance. Never that.

However, it was too late to do anything about it. The magic had already slammed into him, more powerful and stronger than anything he’d felt ever before. He was caught in its web. The magic filled him, swirled around him; it was a whirlwind, tossing him like a leaf.

Logically, Voldemort knew it lasted only for the fraction of a second and did no damage. But it seemed longer. And his body, his newly regenerated body felt like every inch had been pummelled with a sledgehammer.

He drew a deep breath. It did not hurt. The physical pain he felt was not real. It was probably caused by the magic that he accidentally activated when he touched the boy.

The boy!

Voldemort looked at him. Harry Potter was staring at him, confusion evident in his eyes. There was surprise too. Apparently, the magic had affected him too. And he too could not understand what had happened and why. Which was not surprising really. How could this fourteen year old upstart understand what happened when he, Lord Voldemort himself did not!

Voldemort felt something move inside him as he gazed at the boy. The stirring of something he could not understand. He shook his head. The boy was going to die. But later. Right now, he had bigger things to do.  
He laughed in the boy's ear as he rose, pulling the hood of his robe over his head.

"Wormtail!" His tone was imperative. But he noticed that his voice had changed. It did not sound high and cold. It sounded-human. It sounded like Tom Riddle. But he would worry about it later.

"My Lord!" Wormtail grovelled. 

"Take Potter. Lock him in my father's room. Avery, take the body of that boy. And put that corpse in the same room."

Wormtail and Avery bowed low and scurried to obey.  
"And come back here as soon as you are done! I have work to do before the night is out!"

"Yes, my lord, of course my lord," Wormtail was dragging the bound Potter towards the house. Potter, Voldemort was pleased to note, was struggling though he was bound. Good. It meant he was not too weakened. It meant he could savour the death of Harry Potter. Finally.

But first, he had to finish the story of his regeneration for his Death Eaters.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry wondered what was going to happen to him. Would anyone notice their absence? Would Dumbledore realize what had happened? If so, then Harry could hope for a rescue.

The logical part of his brain told him that he was being foolish. Even if Dumbledore or anyone else were to find out what happened, it was not likely that they could find them. How could anyone guess that Voldemort was back? Or that he had abducted him? Or that he was in Little Hangleton? 

Cedric Diggory's eyes were still open. Harry closed his own eyes so he won't have to look at him. Wormtail had put Cedric in the same room. And he had put him where Harry had to look at him. Guilt clawed at Harry's insides. It was his fault. Cedric did not have to die. If Harry had not asked him to take the cup with him, Cedric might have still been alive.

And, whispered a part of his mind, he would have alerted Dumbledore immediately. Though whether Dumbledore might have been able to find him was still doubtful. Harry did not know if it was possible to track portkeys. 

His mind wandered to the moment when he saw Voldemort step out of the cauldron. He could still see it behind his closed eyes. He opened his eyes and saw the staring eyes of Cedric.

Harry closed his eyes again. He did not want to look at Cedric. He would rather see the nightmare that was Voldemort. He remembered the way his scar had hurt when Voldemort had touched him. And then suddenly, the pain had stopped and he had felt a rush as if of wind. There was also a light that seemed to cocoon both him and Voldemort. 

It was there for only an instant, but when it faded, Voldemort's features were different. He looked less snakelike and more human. He had a nose and he looked somewhat like the Tom Riddle he remembered from the diary, though older.

Harry wondered if that was part of the spell too. 

Voldemort's voice too had changed. It sounded more human, not high or cold as it had been previously.

Harry did not hear the door open nor the whispered sleep spell cast on him.


	3. Chapter 3

Voldemort examined his features in the mirror. He was frowning heavily. The magic that was activated when he touched Potter had somehow reversed the transformation process. He looked more human, more like the muggle father he despised. 

Of course, he was not completely changed in appearance. But his nose was there. And his eyes were not snake like. Nor was his mouth. But he was still pale, his eyes were still red and... He examined his body. It looked stronger, more healthy. And yet, he felt weak. He realized that he was hungry. 

He compressed his lips. Had he miscalculated by choosing to use Potter's blood? His knowledge of the magic that had protected Potter from him that first time was sketchy at best. But he could not imagine that the old magic of love could be stronger than the darker arts that he knew. And from what he knew, Potter's blood should have made him stronger. It should have allowed him to touch the boy, to caress the soft skin...

He frowned heavily. What was he thinking! He'd never been subjected to desires of the flesh. And if he ever felt the need, there were those who were more than willing to oblige him. But he had never understood what it was about the act that made people lose control over themselves. 

And now, a part of him was actually craving to touch a school boy! That simply did not make any sense. He was Lord Voldemort. He was the most powerful wizard to have ever lived. He was immortal. And for all his faults, he was no pedophile. But that was because he found the whole concept of sex revolting and to do it with a less than mature body was repulsive.

Then why did he feel the desire to touch Potter? Why was he even thinking of Potter? He should be thinking of killing the boy. He was locked up, bound, helpless, at his mercy. Why was he still keeping him alive? 

Voldemort compressed his lips and looked at the mirror again. He did not look even remotely threatening. But the mirror was old. As was everything else in this house, his father's old house.

Voldemort swept out of the room, scowling. 

What happened to his hatred of Harry Potter?


	4. Chapter 4

Voldemort looked at the food that was brought to him. Evidently, it had been brought from Malfoy Manor. It was too rich, but it was edible. He could feel the silent presence of his Death Eaters in the room him as he ate. Other than the ones who were dead or in prison, there were only two who were absent: Karkaroff and Snape. Voldemort's face was grim as he contemplated the reasons why two of his Death Eaters had failed to obey his summons. 

Karkaroff had run, he'd heard. The fool thought he could escape. But he was about to know how wrong he was. Lord Voldemort's wrath was going to find him in whatever hole he thought to hide in. And when it did, Karkaroff would know that there was no corner on earth where he would be safe.

Snape was a different proposition altogether. He was an effective spy. A valuable asset. But if he'd actually turned, had actually become Dumbledore's lapdog, then he should not be allowed to live. To do that under Dumbledore's nose would not be easy, but that did not deter Voldemort. He was nothing if not tenacious, and once he'd killed Snape, everyone would know how futile it was to resist him, trusting in the protection of Dumbledore.

He finished eating and with a wave of his wand, the plates vanished. He wiped his mouth delicately with the napkin proffered by MacNair. There was no need to expend magical energy on the mundane.   
There was a commotion at the door and Nott and Wormtail burst into the room.

"My Lord," gasped Nott. "The boy... The Potter boy..."

Voldemort sat up. His nostrils dilated in anger. 

"What about the boy?" His voice was dangerously quiet.  
Nott gulped. Wormtail started whimpering. 

"Speak!" Voldemort's voice was a whiplash. He could feel the fear in the room, the flinch from his Death Eaters. 

"He's... not in his room," Nott spoke the final words in a rush, as if he wanted to get it over with.

"Not in his room," Voldemort repeated. 

"My Lord," Nott spoke quickly, "we searched everywhere. He is not to be found anywhere. His wand is also missing as is the corpse and the port key!"

Voldemort stilled. The room was deathly quiet. But before Voldemort could open his mouth, the door opened and a man walked in, robes swishing. There was a collective gasp around the room. 

Severus Snape knelt before Voldemort. "My Lord."


	5. Chapter 5

Voldemort was once again alone in his room. 

Dumbledore had learned of his return. But fortunately, the minister was not convinced. He smiled, a thin humourless smile. Snape had once again proved his worth. By not coming to him immediately, he'd proven his intelligence as also his quick thinking. And Voldemort always valued that in his men. Merlin knew most of them did not have any thinking capacity.

But what they had was loyalty and devotion to him. And they would have it as long as he was powerful enough to give them a share of power. True loyalty was rare. And that was why he mourned what happened to Barty Crouch. A Dementor's kiss was not a good way for a wizard to end. For, Barty's life was as good as over. 

Voldemort frowned as he looked at himself in the mirror again. His eyes were changing. The red was fading to brown. And it seemed as if his body was not all that was changing. For, his regret about Barty was quite uncharacteristic. It was not the first time he had lost a follower. But he had never mourned for any of them. His frown deepened. What was happening to him?

He turned from the mirror. His appearance was changing. There was nothing he could do about it. He wondered if his Horcruxes were safe. Was that why his appearance was changing? He shrugged. It was highly unlikely. He had studied about Horcruxes. He knew that destruction of one would simply destroy the piece of soul contained in it. That piece of soul was never going to return to him.

Which meant that one piece of his soul was gone forever. His lips thinned grimly. Potter had destroyed the diary. But Lucius had given him the opportunity. He had specifically given the diary to Lucius for safekeeping. He had not expected that Lucius would try to use it to settle his score with Arthur Weasley.

Lucius had to pay for it. It was not in Voldemort's nature to forgive or to forget. Lucius would definitely pay for it. But at the moment, he was necessary to Voldemort. Malfoy gold it was that kept the palms of ministry officials so well-greased that not a whiff of suspicion would ever be directed at him. 

Voldemort smiled grimly. Lucius had so graciously offered him the use of Malfoy Manor. Perhaps it was time he accepted that invitation. And then he had to find out a way to enter the Department of Mysteries. He had to hear the prophecy. And then he would know how Potter escaped him. And how to destroy him. But did he want that anymore?

Somehow, thinking of Potter did not fill him with rage or chagrin this time. He had to hear the prophecy, but he was not so certain he would use it to destroy Potter anymore.

Voldemort knew exactly where Potter was. He was in Little Whinging. But the exact location was hidden from him. Dumbledore had used a variation of blood magic to shield the boy. A combination of blood and love magics that Voldemort had never bothered to learn much about.

He sat down in his chair. Malfoy Manor had an extensive library. Perhaps it was time he researched on a different brand of magic. After all, he was Lord Voldemort. He could not be ignorant of any kind of magic.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry was numb from all that had happened to him. He still could not recollect clearly how he had escaped from Voldemort's clutches. He remembered waking up to see the Triwizard cup in one corner, behind Cedric. He could not remember if that cup had been there before. It probably was, though he hadn't noticed it. 

It was seeing the cup that had given him the idea. The cup was a portkey. If he could just touch it, he could escape. But how to reach it was the problem. He had strained against the cords that bound his wrists and somehow, they had snapped. For a moment, he had been dazed, unable to believe what had happened. He had untied the cords that bound his ankles, though it had taken him a long time. His fingers were numb from having been bound so long. He had staggered up, swaying. Then he saw his wand. It was there, just next to the Triwizard cup, flung carelessly in the corner. He had picked it up, then looked at Cedric's body. He could not leave him. He had to take him back. It was the least he could do. 

Everything else had happened too fast. His reaching Hogwarts, the revelation that Barty Crouch had been disguised as Mad-Eye Moody all this time, the minister's attitude, Sirius... He closed his eyes. Tomorrow he had to return to Privet Drive. Sirius had promised him they would see each other again. 

Harry tried to focus on something other than Voldemort. How had the cord that bound him snapped? It had been frayed, he remembered now. But why was he bound in the first place? A Petrificus Totalus might have been more effective. It was probably Wormtail's idea to bind him muggle fashion. It had certainly proved lucky for him.

He wondered what they were going to do next. He wondered if Sirius would be safe. He wondered what Snape was doing. He remembered the moment when Dumbledore had asked Sirius and Snape to shake hands. They looked as if they would have liked to murder each other as they had shaken hands. It wasn't even a proper handshake, thought he. They had barely touched the tips of the other's fingers. 

He sighed. It was rather comforting to know some things never changed. Voldemort might have returned, but Sirius and Snape were not going to stop hating each other. In a way, the thought comforted him. It was one of the few stable things in his unstable world. As stable as the contempt and dislike the Dursleys had for him.


	7. Chapter 7

Voldemort rubbed his eyes. He had been closeted in the Malfoys' library ever since moving here. For the past three weeks, he had been virtually living in the library. The Malfoys' library too was severely limited when it came to researching the kind of magic Dumbledore used to protect Potter. But there were a few useful books. Voldemort knew that Potter was with his mother's sister. Only in that house would he be safe from Voldemort.   
He sat back. Three weeks of research had brought him this. But he was satisfied. It was one thing more than what he knew earlier. He knew he would not be able to locate Potter's relatives by magical means. And he knew no muggle arts. 

He did not ask himself why he was obsessed with finding Potter. The boy had been an obsession for so long, he no longer wondered at it. But he was aware that his desire to kill Potter was somehow gone. Yet, his obsession remained. He did not even want to think about why.

He rose, groaning a bit. His body was stiff from sitting in the same posture for a long time. He stretched himself, allowing the blood flow to come back to his limbs. Then he moved to the mirror in one corner. He grimaced as he saw his reflection. He looked like a muggle, and that too the muggle father he despised. But right now, he had other things to worry about than his changed appearance. He pulled the hood of his robe over his head, so his face was in shadow.

He opened the door and stepped into the corridor and made his way into the living room. The three Malfoys were there and they jumped up as soon as they saw him. He noticed the change in atmosphere in the room. Probably, the three were having a cozy family moment though it did not seem too cozy if the sulky expression of Lucius's son was anything to go by. 

"My Lord," Lucius was all obsequiousness and deference.

"Lucius," he inclined his head as he sat down on one of the armchairs. The chair was almost too comfortable, thought he with an inward grimace. Lucius was spoilt with luxury. 

"Summon Severus," he told Lucius. He did so enjoy the nonplussed expression that came upon his followers' faces when he made some out of the blue demand that made no sense to them. But, to his credit, Malfoy recovered almost instantly. 

"Yes, my Lord, immediately,"

He turned to leave. 

"And Lucius?"

Malfoy turned to face him, a wary look on his face. 

"Bring me something to eat. I'm famished."

It was all he could do not to laugh out loud at the expression on Malfoy's face. 

Lucius bowed, "Yes, my Lord," he muttered as he almost ran out of the room.

Voldemort sat back in the chair and waved his wand to convert it into something a little less comfortable and more suited to him.


	8. Chapter 8

Snape bowed to Voldemort, "You asked for me, my Lord?"

Voldemort waved him to a chair, "Have a seat, Severus."

Snape sat down gingerly on the edge of one of the chairs.

"Lucius' chairs are... too luxurious," remarked Voldemort. "Do you not find it so, Severus?"

"I am used to more- ah- functional furniture, my Lord," replied Snape. He still was quite composed. Voldemort admired that about this man. Snape was one of his few followers who could keep their heads in a crisis.

"Ensure we are not eavesdropped upon, Severus," said Voldemort. "And this conversation is not to be reported to Dumbledore. If he asks why I summoned you, tell him some falsehood."

Snape bowed again, "As you wish, my Lord."

Voldemort was silent for a moment as Snape cast the necessary spells to stop anyone from listening to their conversation, accidentally or otherwise. He was impressed by how Snape adapted a few simple spells. So, Snape was inventive too. A good trait in a teacher, apparently.

Voldemort wondered idly what made Dumbledore trust this man so implicitly. Dumbledore, for all his faults, was no fool. And while it was true that he was always ready to believe the best in others, he had always lamentably, failed to believe the best in Voldemort. But Dumbledore trusted Snape, still did. He believed that Snape worked for him. And he, Voldemort believed Snape worked for him.

Which of us is being fooled by you, Severus? He wondered as Snape took his seat again. Or are you playing some game of your own?

"Look at me, Severus," he said softly. 

Snape faced him, calmly.

Voldemort cast the Leglimency spell without words, adding aloud, "No blocking me out, Severus,"

He looked into Snape's head for any signs of treachery and found none. He found contempt for Dumbledore, for Potter, and he also found quite a great deal of anger towards... ah.... Black. He nodded, satisfied.

"I take it you would get a great deal of satisfaction to kill Sirius Black."

"A great deal of pleasure, my Lord," Snape's face and voice was impassive, but he fidgeted a bit. "Is that what you wish of me?"

Voldemort shook his head. "Not yet, Severus. We shall have to defer your pleasure to a more appropriate moment."

"I live only to serve," Snape bowed. 

"Severus, I remember you being enamoured of Lily Potter once,"

He watched Snape's face from under his hood. The impassive mask cracked for an instant and something almost like longing came to Snape's eyes. But that was gone just as quickly.

"At one time, yes," said he evenly.

Voldemort nodded. "She had a-sister?"

Snape nodded. 

"What was her name?"

Snape's brows furrowed, "It was some flower," muttered he. "Rose? No. Gardenia, I think. No, that's not right. Petunia! That's right. Petunia." He smiled a bit apologetically. "I never met her, my Lord. Evans mentioned her often, but.."

"I can imagine you weren't paying attention to her words," Voldemort said drily. "One more thing, Severus. Do you know if Petunia Evans is married?"

"I believe so, my Lord, but I don't know anything else. Evans and I were not too friendly after our fifth year."

Voldemort nodded. "A mudblood was not the one for you, Severus. There are many pure bloods worthy of your attention." He rose. "You may leave now."

Snape bowed and went out. Voldemort returned to the library. He had a name. But that did not bring him any closer to finding out where Petunia Evans now lived or what she was called now. He frowned. She was a muggle. And Dumbledore's spell would ensure that she would be undetected by anyone using magic to trace her. 

Voldemort sighed. He hated muggles. But it seemed he would need to find Petunia Evans the muggle way. And the worst thing was, though he did grow up in a muggle orphanage, he had not been to the muggle world except to kill and terrorize for almost fifty years now. 

But he could learn. How hard could it be? Muggles do it every day. And he was Lord Voldemort.


	9. Chapter 9

Harry was nearly groaning under Dudley's dead weight when suddenly, he was aware of someone else in the alleyway. A man was there, on his other side, easing Dudley's bulk off Harry's shoulders. Harry could not see his face due to the hood he wore. 

Mrs. Figg stopped and stared at him. "Who are you?"  
The man pulled his hood back. And smiled. "I'm new to the order. Mundungus told me to have a look in here before I returned to Headquarters. Good thing too." He smiled at Harry. "Nice Patronus, by the way."

Harry was gasping. It was Voldemort. Except he looked different. He looked exactly like the Diary Riddle, but older. He smiled at Harry, lowering his voice, "Don't give me away just yet, Harry. Your friend can't do anything. Nor this fat lump you call a cousin."

Harry swallowed, but kept quiet. 

"What is your name?" Asked Mrs. Figg. 

"Tom," Voldemort replied.

Harry found walking a lot more easier now that Voldemort was carrying Dudley. But he felt as if he was in a nightmare. It did not feel real. First, the Dementor attack, then Mrs. Figg turning out to be a squib, and now, Voldemort- Voldemort, of all people!- turning up like this and carrying his cousin's limp form.

There was a loud crack and Mundungus Fletcher appeared. Mrs. Figg made him aware of the situation in a few choice words. Strangely, he too seemed to accept Voldemort and did not deny his cover story. 

"I better get back to Headquarters. Dumbledore needs to hear of this," said he before apparating away.  
"And I need to get back home too," said Mrs. Figg. "You will see him home safely, Tom?"

"Of course, Mrs. Figg." Voldemort gave her a thumbs up. 

Harry wanted to laugh. He wanted to tell Mrs. Figg not to go, but he held his tongue. What could Mrs. Figg or Mundungus Fletcher do against Voldemort? Voldemort waited till Mrs. Figg was out of sight, then he tapped his wand against Dudley, who levitated an inch from the ground and started moving forward. His face was slack and his eyes closed. But Harry could see that he was alive. At least, Voldemort hadn't killed him.

"That's better than carrying him," said Voldemort, startling Harry as he threw an arm around Harry's shoulder, holding him close. "And it allows us a chance to have a conversation."

"You're not going to kill me?" Harry wondered why Voldemort was holding him so close. It made walking very difficult. He tried to free himself, but that had no effect.

"No, I don't think so. I had to shelve that plan."

"Is that why you sent the Dementors?"

"I did not send them."

Harry stood still. Voldemort's arm dropped away from his shoulder. Somehow he believed Voldemort. But if he did not send the Dementors, who did?

"How," he cleared his throat. "How did you get Mundungus to agree to what you said? And Mrs. Figg... she accepted you far too quickly... and she left...."

"A combination of Confundus and a memory charm," Voldemort said. "Neither of them will remember meeting me. Mrs. Figg will believe she escorted you and your cousin home."

Harry digested this in silence. "Dumbledore will believe me," said he at last.

"Yes, if you tell him. But are you going to?"

And Harry knew that he was not going to tell Dumbledore about this. Not till he found out what was happening anyway.

He resumed walking. Voldemort made no further attempt to touch him, for which he was grateful. Then, he noticed something.

"My scar doesn't hurt," said he. 

Voldemort gave him a thoughtful look. "I assume you should be grateful for that,"

"I am," said Harry fervently. "But I don't know why. I mean, you are here..."

"I guess the spell I used last time might have had something to do with it," he said. "Though I too am working out the details. Which is why I am here, actually."

"They didn't recognize you," said Harry.

"They haven't seen this face of mine," he replied. "They've seen only the other face."

"Is that why you are disguised like this?"

"This, unfortunately, is not a disguise."

Harry stared at him. "Oh..."

"Anyway, to come back to why I am here. I need your help."

Harry turned to face him. "No." said he.

"You haven't even heard what it is," Voldemort pointed out.

"I don't need to. I am not helping you. Ever."

"Unless you help me," said Voldemort. "I'll just keep hounding you like this all the time. You see Harry, that spell did something unexpected to me. It regenerated me, but it also changed my appearance, and... a few other things."

Harry was walking fast now. He was not going to help Voldemort do anything. Hound him? That's what Voldemort had been doing since he was one. That was not going to make him help the man who'd murdered his parents.

Voldemort's long strides were easily matching his.  
"It seems, I have developed a rather unhealthy obsession towards you since that night," he remarked. "I am not certain I want that."

"You’ve been obsessed with me since I was one," grated out Harry. 

"That was different," said Voldemort as he caught Harry by the shoulder and spun him around to face him. "This is not the same, Harry."

Harry looked at the man. He sounded sincere, but then, he was Voldemort. He would be able to fool anyone. But he, Harry, was not going to be foolish.

"I don't see anything different except that you are not trying to kill me," he said.

"And that doesn't tell you anything? That doesn't tell you that something has, indeed changed?"

"This could all be some elaborate ploy of yours," said Harry. "I will never trust anything you say."

"Fine," said Voldemort. "But the next time you see Dumbledore, ask him why I tried to kill you as a baby."

He disapparated and with a thud, Dudley came down to earth.

Harry swore as he heaved his cousin's bulky form up on to his shoulders. Dudley was conscious now but was still not able to walk under his own steam. Muttering curses under his breath, Harry half-dragged, half-carried his cousin the rest of the way.


	10. Chapter 10

Voldemort clenched his fists and hit the wall in frustration. He had no idea what made him go to Little Whinging. He just had wanted to see the boy, was almost compelled by something inside him, and he'd gone. Just in time to see Harry drive off two Dementors with his Patronus. A corporeal Patronus. 

Voldemort had been stunned. Stunned at seeing the Dementors there. How could someone have sent the Dementors to a muggle inhabited area? As far as he knew, the ministry still controlled the Dementors. Which meant someone in the ministry had done this. Someone in the ministry had wanted to harm Harry.

He stopped short at that. When had the boy become Harry? 

And there was the magic Harry had performed. A Patronus! Most fully trained wizards would not have known how to conjure a Patronus; nor did many know that only a Patronus could save them from a Dementor. Voldemort was less shocked that the boy actually knew how to summon a Patronus. He could only imagine the necessity that might have forced Harry to learn how to counter a Dementor. He remembered what Wormtail had told him about the boy's third year at Hogwarts. There had been Dementors all around the school. No doubt, Harry felt that he needed to learn to deal with them. 

Wise decision, as it turned out. And that Patronus was quite substantial too. Then, that squib smelling of cats had rushed in, and Harry was struggling to keep his wand ready and to carry his cousin. Voldemort just had to step in. 

He sighed. He did not know what possessed him to ask Harry for help. And what help was he expecting? It was not as if Harry was in a position to undo what had happened to him. If he was honest, he would have to admit it was only a pretext to prolong the conversation.  
Unhealthily obsessed with Harry was right, except that he did not wish to kill him anymore. But he did not know what he wanted either. He only knew he had to see the boy. 

Bad idea, thought he. He'd found the boy, found the place where he was staying. And he knew he would never be able to go within a block of his house if his intention was to harm Harry. He had to admire Dumbledore. The old fool had managed to adapt a little known spell and to weave an enchantment that could not be broken. 

But he no longer wished to harm Harry. So, technically he should be able to approach the boy. If, that is, he'd read the spell's parameters right. He shrugged. He was never going to know unless he tried.

He apparated silently and directly into Harry's bedroom. He allowed himself a small smirk of satisfaction that his reading of the spell was correct. Voldemort could feel the strength of the magic inside the house. He shuddered. Had he come here to harm the boy, it would have destroyed him, all his horcruxes notwithstanding, being ripped from his body was not am experience he was keen to repeat. It was not really an enjoyable one.   
He was brought out of his reverie by the sound of Harry moaning.

"Cedric... don't kill Cedric!"

Cedric? Voldemort remembered the boy who'd been with Harry the night he'd appeared in the graveyard. The boy he'd killed. Voldemort felt a twinge. And it shocked him. That had never, ever, happened to him.

Harry was tossing and turning, moaning. He was also sweating. Voldemort felt chilled. He had caused this. He was responsible for this. And this time, he felt more than a twinge. 

He moved to the bed, climbing onto it and held the boy. Harry clutched to him in his sleep, "Don't let him kill Cedric!"

Voldemort held Harry, not knowing what to do. Harry mumbled Cedric's name again and was still, his breath evening; the nightmare had passed. Voldemort used his robe to wipe Harry's face. He did not want to use magic since it might get Harry into further trouble. After all, he was an underage wizard.

Holding Harry in his arms, Voldemort looked around the room. It was a small room and it was quite evident that this was not a place Harry belonged to. There were no personal mementos, nothing that stamped Harry's personality. Harry's belongings were strewn haphazardly around the room, but Voldemort could already see that none of those would be there once the school term started. His arms tightened around the sleeping boy almost unconsciously. Harry had lived in this house, probably in this room, for fourteen years. And yet, there was nothing here that marked this place as home. 

Nothing except the magic that Dumbledore had put here to protect him.


	11. Chapter 11

It was the noise that woke Voldemort. The noise of someone banging at the door. He was about to curse whoever it was to kingdom come when the thrum of the magic reminded him where he was. He got up from the bed, careful not to wake Harry. Dawn was just breaking, he could see. 

There was a banging on the door again and a woman was calling from outside, "Get up! Boy!"

Voldemort bristled at her peremptory tone. He would have liked to stay there and give that woman-Harry's aunt presumably-a piece of his mind. But Harry was stirring, calling out groggily. "I am getting up."

Voldemort knew he should leave. He could not push his luck. If Dumbledore learned he'd been here, in this house, he might change the enchantment to keep him out altogether, whatever his intentions. So he disapparated silently, just as Harry sat up, rubbing his eyes.

Back in Malfoy Manor, Voldemort was frowning heavily. He did not like his situation one bit. He was being affected by the boy and he did not want that. But he also seemed unable to stay away. Already, he was feeling the urge to go back to Privet Drive, to ensure Harry was all right. The way his aunt talked to him did not inspire much confidence as to Harry's well-being. And that explained why the room had felt just like a room. There was not a bit of Harry there.

He wondered why Dumbledore entrusted Harry's upbringing to his muggle relatives. Of course, the blood magic that protected Harry could not have worked anywhere else, but surely a wizard would have been a better choice? Or Dumbledore could have taken care of Harry himself. If protecting Harry from his hands was the overriding concern, that could have been served just as well under Dumbledore's guardianship.

But, thought he, lips twisting, if Dumbledore had chosen to assume Harry's guardianship, he might not have been able to keep the truth of the prophecy from Harry. That Harry was not even aware of the prophecy was evident from his bewildered and blank stare the other night when he'd hinted at it. Harry was more than honest. He was quite transparent. He could not have faked that look.

Voldemort sighed. He would do better to bend his energies to retrieving the prophecy than to obsess about the boy. He sat down, pulling towards him the large tome that dealt with the room of prophecies. The ministry maintained records of almost all prophecies. It was inside the Department of Mysteries and not accessible to anyone. And the only ones who could actually retrieve it were the ones about whom it was made. Which meant either Harry or he would need to go there. 

His going there was out of the question. And he could not envision any scenario in which Harry, if he chose to retrieve it, would share its contents with him. No, he had to find another way. Perhaps it was possible for one of the Unspeakables to retrieve it. After all, they worked in the Department of Mysteries.

He rang the bell. He would need to talk to Malfoy. The man had contacts in the ministry. He could find a way to make an Unspeakable to get it. 

But first, he had an owl to send.


	12. Chapter 12

Harry had just finished pacing his room again and had sank into his bed, feeling drained. There was no news from anyone, he had a hearing to attend to and there still was no news on Voldemort. Harry wondered if he'd dreamt that Voldemort was there on the evening of the Dementor attack. Was that only two days ago? It seemed so long.

Harry thought he would even settle for a meeting with Voldemort, just so he could be certain he was not imagining things. He snorted. The letter from the ministry which told him of the hearing on August twelfth was real enough. A faint tapping at the window had him out of the bed and at the window in a flash. Had his friends finally replied to him? 

His hopes fell as he saw an unfamiliar owl outside. Maybe another ministry owl. That only made his heart sink further. What did the ministry want now? 

He opened the window to let the owl in. It was an eagle owl that looked vaguely familiar. But before Harry could figure out where he'd seen it, it had dropped a letter on his table and had soared out again.

Harry stared at the letter. The handwriting too was vaguely familiar. He frowned suddenly. He remembered the owl. It belonged to the Malfoys. He had seen it at Hogwarts, bringing sweets and letters to Draco Malfoy. He picked up the letter with some trepidation. His heart was beating fast. What was Malfoy writing to him for? Or did the letter contain some jinx or curse?

He looked at the handwriting that certainly looked familiar. He was trying to remember when he had seen Malfoy's handwriting when it stuck him. It was not Malfoy's handwriting after all. He had seen this handwriting in his second year, in the diary. Tom Riddle's diary. When it had written back to him. There were slight changes, but it was, unmistakably, the same handwriting. 

His insides went cold and he dropped the letter back on the table. Voldemort had written to him? Why? Was this some kind of trick? And how did the owl find him? How did Voldemort know where he lived? Should he send a letter to Dumbledore, telling him Voldemort is probably with the Malfoys in their house? 

He was still angry with Dumbledore, but he knew to keep an information like this could cost lives. He sat down on his writing table, trying to ignore the letter as he thought about what to write. What was he to write anyway? If Dumbledore asked why Voldemort would write to him, and send a letter with an owl Harry was bound to recognize, so carelessly revealing his whereabouts, what answer did he have? But did he need an answer? He was not answerable for Voldemort's actions. But it did seem like a convenient trap for Dumbledore that Voldemort was using Harry to spring, 

He decided to do nothing, and went back to bed and lay down, staring at the ceiling. But the letter weighed on his mind. And, he was curious as to its contents. Was it just a blank piece of parchment, Voldemort so certain that he would write to Dumbledore without ever opening the letter that he did not even bother to put anything in it? Or did it contain threats or requests for help as before, just to nonplus Harry and make him less suspicious? 

He sighed as he got up. He had to know what was in it. No one else was writing to him anyway. His friends were not even replying to his letters. Why shouldn't he open this letter? After all, Voldemort could have harmed him, Mrs. Figg and Mundungus Fletcher the other night and didn't. It was unlikely that the letter was harmful.

He opened the letter and read  
"How are you?   
Tom."

Just that. He read the words again. Tom. Voldemort seemed to have forgotten his grandiloquent alias choosing to sign his real name.

But at least, Tom had asked him how he was. Which was more than everyone else had done. For a supposed trap, Tom certainly knew what to say to make Harry feel better and even safer. Of course, Harry would not be in this mess if not for Tom. He tore the letter up, threw the pieces to the dustbin, and flung himself back on the bed.


	13. Chapter 13

Harry woke up suddenly. He had a feeling he was not alone in the room. He half-rose and his hand had stretched out for his glasses when someone caught that hand. A warm hand covered his mouth. 

"Shh... it's me."

And as the hand was removed from his mouth, and he was released, Harry sat gaping like a fish, not even able to ask what Voldemort was doing in his bedroom, kneeling by his bed.

In the moonlight, Voldemort looked pale and blurry. Tom Riddle had been pale too, thought Harry as took his glasses and put them on. The other wizard's face came into focus and he still looked pale. Harry picked up his wand and pointed it at Voldemort, breathing heavily.

"How are you?" Asked Voldemort, ignoring Harry's wand. His wand was not in his hands, Harry noticed. 

Tom, thought Harry. Not Voldemort. But Tom Riddle had tried to kill him too. 

"What are you doing here?" Harry finally found his voice, his hand was shaking a bit.

"I was worried about you."

Harry dropped his wand and wondered if he was losing his mind. For, a part of him had felt comforted as Tom said he was worried about him. But another part of him was warning him to be careful. This was Voldemort he was dealing with.

"You are not putting a spell on me, are you?"

Tom looked surprised. "No. Why do you say that?"

Harry shook his head, feeling stupidly relieved. "I... I just felt glad when you said you were worried about me."

Tom sucked in a breath. "You felt glad?" There was an odd note to his voice.

"Yea, pretty insane I guess," Harry was looking down at his wand. Harry could feel Tom's gaze on him.

"May be," said Tom as he stood up. "I should be leaving."

"You are leaving?" Harry raised his face to look at Tom, surprised. Why had Tom come?

"I came to see how you were doing. You seem alright."

"Okay," he bent his head again. He was alright. Or he would be, once Ron and Hermione replied to his letters.

Another thought struck him. "Are you stopping my letters?"

Tom looked bewildered. "Stopping your letters?"

Harry put his wand back on the side-table. "It was just a thought," he muttered. He could not explain to himself why he felt Tom was not lying.

Tom sat down on the bed. He took Harry's chin in his hand and lifted his face. Green eyes met brown. Harry was feeling breathless and frightened.

"Good night Harry," said Tom quietly as he bent down and kissed Harry on the forehead, right on his scar. Harry closed his eyes and when he opened them, he was alone in the room. Tom had disapparated silently. 

Harry could feel his scar tingling as he took off his glasses and put them back on the side table. He lay back down and hugged his pillow close. He could not explain the goofy grin that was on his face.


	14. Chapter 14

Being in the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix was definitely less interesting than Harry had expected. Being underage and still in school, Harry and his friends were not allowed to be anywhere near the Order meetings. The only job they were given was to clean up the Headquarters. Cleaning up Grimmauld Place was not at all easy. And in spite of their best attempts, most of the house remained as uninhabitable as ever. 

But staying busy kept him from thinking of Tom. He wondered if Tom had come to visit him in Privet Drive after he'd left. He hadn't had time to leave a message either. Tonks had been with him as he was packing, and even if she wasn't, he had not wanted to leave a note for Tom where the Dursleys could see it. 

He'd contemplated sending a note with Hedwig, but in the first excitement of being here and seeing Ron and Hermione and Sirius, he'd forgotten. What was there to write anyway? Which also reminded him that he was yet to tell Ron and Hermione about Tom. 

Of course, in all the bustle he had forgotten about his hearing too. It was scheduled for the next day. He wished he felt confident of being vindicated. But he could not be certain. He wondered if Dumbledore was going to be there. If he saw Dumbledore, would he get a chance to tell him about Tom?

Harry sighed. What was he going to tell them? He felt certain that whatever Tom wanted, it was not to harm Harry. But that did not mean that he was not plotting extermination of muggles and muggle-borns. What if Tom was trying to win Harry's trust so that he could undermine Dumbledore's influence over him? If that was Tom's plan, thought he sourly, it was working fairly well, since Dumbledore's continued neglect was already affecting Harry.

He got up from the bed and went to Hedwig. He was feeling slightly reckless. He took a parchment, dipped his quill in ink and wrote, "Hi Tom, my hearing is tomorrow. Just thought I'd let you know. I am with my friends and quite fine. Nervous about the hearing.   
Harry.  
P.S: Are you sure you didn't send the Dementors?"

Harry read the note once again. He grimaced and struck off the postscript. Tom had already said he didn't send the Dementors and somehow Harry believed him. He sealed the note, wrote Tom Marvolo Riddle on top and stroked Hedwig.

"Please get it to him before morning," he murmured as he watched her go with the note. 

Sleep was a long time coming and then he kept dreaming of locked doors and brightly lit halls.


	15. Chapter 15

Mrs. Figg's testimony over, Fudge still looked as if he was not convinced. Someone brought a note to Dumbledore who sat still, perusing it. Then he said calmly.

"There's one more witness to the Dementor attacks on Harry."

"Who now?" Asked Fudge, his irritation showing through.

"A wizard who happened to pass that way. He says he saw the whole incident."

"Call him, then," said Fudge with an air of long-suffering.

Harry caught his breath as Tom walked in. He nodded to Dumbledore as he took the chair vacated by Mrs. Figg. He did not appear to be the least nervous. Harry wondered how it was that no one recognized him. 

Tom gave his name as Tom Marvolo Riddle. Again no one seemed to recognize the name. He told them he was passing by when he felt the Dementors. But before he could go for his wand, he saw Harry manage to fend them off.

"It was an impressive piece of magic," said Tom, "especially under the circumstances."

"Circumstances?" Asked Fudge, frowning.

"He and his cousin were being attacked by Dementors," said Tom. "Most fifteen year olds would have lost their heads. Harry Potter not only managed to keep his head, but also to produce a sufficiently powerful Patronus to drive off the Dementors. The boy should be given a medal, not a hearing!"

Fudge bristled. "You are overstepping your bounds!"

Dumbledore was gazing at Tom with a peculiar expression on his face.

Once Harry was cleared of all charges, he was detained by Dumbledore. "I'll take him back, Arthur," said he. Mr. Weasley nodded as he relinquished Harry to Dumbledore. Tom was waiting outside. Dumbledore looked at him. 

"It is good to see you like this, Tom," said he.

"I came here only for Harry," said Tom. "Nothing else has changed."

Dumbledore smiled. "Oh, I think it has. But I need to take Harry home now."

"Professor," said Harry. "If you can give us a moment?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Don't take too long."

He moved away, out of earshot.

Tom looked at Harry and smiled, "You look good."

Harry grinned, now that he knew he was going back to Hogwarts, he was feeling quite in charity with the world. "You too. Thank you for coming. I never expected you would come."

"I had to," said Tom. "Apart from the hearing, I did have some business at the ministry."

Harry felt a twinge of disappointment But Tom had still testified on his behalf. And he had been cleared of all charges.

"I should go," said he, holding out his hand.

"Take care of yourself," said Tom, pulling him into a hug. Harry sighed contentedly. Tom lifted his face and kissed his scar. 

"See you, Harry," he stepped back and disapparated. 

Harry turned to find Dumbledore standing there. 

"Shall we go then?" Asked Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling.

Harry nodded.


	16. Chapter 16

They walked in silence for a while and then Harry asked. "How come no one recognized him? Or even his name?"

Dumbledore shrugged. "The number of people who knew him when he was Tom Riddle is less than a handful now. But that is not why today no one recognized him. He had cast a rather powerful spell on himself. All they would have seen was a tall, balding fellow and when Arthur comes home today, you will see that Tom Marvolo Riddle was not the name he heard."

"But we saw him. And heard his name correctly too."

"That's because we already knew it was him."

Harry digested this is silence. The Slytherin part of him was glad that Tom had taken precautions, but the Gryffindor part of him felt disappointed as well. He supposed he must get used to being conflicted. That seemed to happen a lot ever since Tom appeared in his life.

"My scar no longer hurts when he is near," said Harry.

"Are you disappointed?" Asked Dumbledore, his gaze sharp.

Harry did not answer immediately. If he was honest with himself, he might have to admit that he was slightly upset. But he was mostly relieved. And he told Dumbledore that.

"He told me on the day of the Dementor attack that the spell he used changed him. Is that why he's behaving like this?"

Dumbledore considered this. "The spell he used is his own invention," said he at last. "There is no precedent to it, nor to any of the things that connect you two. I can only take a guess." He paused. "But first, I must ask you something. Do you hate him now, Harry?"

Harry felt almost ashamed to admit it. "No, but... I feel I should... but I don't..."

"Then my guess might be nearer to the mark. Mind you, I cannot say if it is accurate since I do not know exactly how Tom's spell works and I doubt Tom would tell me. But from what I understood, he took your blood and then touched you."

Harry nodded. 

"He took your blood thinking that the protection your mother provided you would extend to him. And also that, with your blood in his veins, you will not be invulnerable to him. He was right on both counts, but where he miscalculated was in the nature of the protection."

"My mother died to save me," said Harry.

"Her protection was her love for you Harry. And Tom Riddle took that love into him when he took your blood. The magic activated when he touched you. It changed his appearance, destroying part of the evil within him. But he's still far from being good, Harry. Quite far from it."

"Then..." said Harry in a colourless voice, "it's only because of the spell that he's like that with me."

"I don't think it is entirely the spell, Harry. The magic affected both of you. But all it really did was to remove all the negative feelings you two had for each other at that time. But even with your blood in his veins, he could have rebuilt his hatred for you and gone back to being what he was. But he chose not to. My guess is he tried to learn more about the magic that protected you so he can gain access to you. And he did not do that to harm you." Dumbledore paused. "And you too had lost your hatred due to the magic and you too chose not to hate him further."

"That's only because he was nice to me," protested Harry.

"Well, we both know he can be nice when he wants to, and I don't think what he did today classifies as just being nice, even with all the precautions he took. But I have to ask you this, Harry. Has he ever visited you in your aunt's and uncle's house?"

"Um.. yes, the night before the Order came for me."

"Do you know why you are staying with them, Harry?"

Harry looked at Dumbledore, confused. "The time for keeping this from you is past," said Dumbledore softly. "I gave you to them because your aunt shares your mother's blood; the blood Voldemort spilled; that blood is your greatest protection against him. He would never have been able to set foot in that house or anywhere near it, had he intended any harm to you or to your relatives. He is powerful, but there are more powerful things than him. He would have been destroyed had he come anywhere near that house, intending to harm you."

"He... he told me to ask you why he tried to kill me when I was a baby."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes. I feared the time would come. I have run out of excuses not to tell you."

"Why didn't you want to tell me?" Harry stared curiously at Dumbledore, feeling slightly betrayed and a lot angrier.

Dumbledore sighed. "You will know when I tell you."


	17. Chapter 17

Harry could not sleep that night. He could understand why Dumbledore chose not to tell him this so far. But he was glad it was finally out in the open. He had to know. Perhaps he was not ready for it, but he had to know.

"Neither can live while the other survives," the final words of the prophecy sent a chill down his spine. Was this their destiny then? One of them had to die at the hands of the other? Dumbledore had told him that fate is not set, that not all prophecies are fulfilled. But it seemed to Harry that this one was well on the way to being fulfilled. He had been born at the end of July, his parents had escaped Voldemort thrice and Voldemort had marked him by giving him that scar. Of course, Neville too had been born at the end of July, his parents too had escaped Voldemort thrice and Harry's scar hardly marked him as Voldemort's equal. And he could not think what was the power he had that Voldemort did not know. But still, enough of the prophecy had already come to pass.

"It doesn't have to be," Dumbledore had told him. "Not unless you want it to. Do you think the part of the prophecy that came true would have happened if Voldemort had chosen to ignore it instead of acting on it?"

Harry understood what Dumbledore was saying, but he was not reassured. And he was even less reassured by the fact that Tom was trying to hear the full prophecy. For, Dumbledore had told him that a record of the prophecy was kept in the Department of Mysteries, in the ministry. Perhaps, Tom was trying to get to that when he came for the hearing.

Harry had later asked Mr. Weasley about the Department of Mysteries, but he had not much idea of what went on there. 

"I've seen the place only once," he had told Harry. "There are lots of locked doors there. But why the sudden interest in that place, Harry?"

Harry had mumbled something about being curious and Mr. Weasley had seemed satisfied. But Ron and Hermione had directed sharp glances at him. Harry knew he was not being fair to his best friends by keeping so much from them. But somehow, he did not feel he was ready to tell them everything. 

It was so hard being a marked man. Harry did not want his friends to look at him like that. What if they became disgusted with him? Worse, what if they pitied him? He did not want to face that. A small part of him told him that he was being unfair to his friends. But he was not in an emotional state to think logically.

And now, Harry knew what the locked doors in his dreams meant. They were not his dreams. They were Tom's. Tom was dreaming about the place where the prophecy was kept, and somehow Harry was privy to those dreams. 

The knowledge that Tom was seeking to know the prophecy in full had also been devastating. For, why should Tom seek to know it if he did not mean to harm Harry. Neither can live while the other survives. That was very straight forward. And Harry knew what was going to happen if Tom should happen to hear it. If Dumbledore was right and Tom was being nice to him not due to some spell, then all that would change once he heard his being alive depended on Harry not being alive.


	18. Chapter 18

Harry was going through the motions. Not even the thought of going back to Hogwarts was enough to cheer him up any longer. He was aware of the worried glances by his friends and the others. They had expected Harry to be glad since he was cleared of all charges in the hearing, but with the weight of the prophecy hanging on him, Harry could not even manage a smile.

Sirius cornered Harry three days before start of the new term at Hogwarts. Harry was sitting by the window in the living room by himself when Sirius came to him and sat down next to him.

"Want to talk about it?" He asked, his face reflecting his concern. His Godfather was beginning to look human again, Harry noticed. He was beginning to look more like the man in his parents' wedding photos. 

Harry felt a lump rise to his throat. He wanted to tell Sirius, but he did not know how. And, to be honest, he was terrified of telling anyone about Tom. Dumbledore was different, he had thought Dumbledore would understand and he did. But he was probably the only one because even Harry did not understand what was going on between him and Tom. And he certainly could not expect Sirius to understand.

He looked at Sirius' face and then lowered his eyes. "I don't know," said he. 

Sirius put his arms around Harry, holding him. "I know I could not be there for you before," he said. "But I'm here now, and I'll always be. If you don't want to talk, that's fine. But if you ever do, I'm here."

Harry felt a lump in his throat as he hugged Sirius back. "I want to tell you, but I don't know how to. And I'm afraid to."

Before Sirius could reply, Snape came into the room, followed by Tonks and the opportunity was lost.

"You should go upstairs and pack," Sirius told him.

Harry nodded. Snape stood stiffly, watching the exchange. On an impulse, Harry turned to him.

"May I ask you something, Professor?"  
Snape looked like a man who'd found a poisonous slug crawling up his arm.   
"Make it quick, Potter."

"Is there..." Harry coughed to clear his throat. He was uncomfortably aware of Sirius' frowning glance upon him and of Tonks' openly curious one. "Is there anything changed about Voldemort's appearance?"

Snape shot him a sharp glance. "The Dark Lord," said he, speaking slowly, "has changed much in appearance and voice. But he keeps his hood pulled over his face at all times, so that no one would notice it. However, whenever he is by himself he removes the hood. I had managed to chance upon him on one such occasion, and if not for the aura of power around him and the clothes he wore, I would have been hard pressed to recognize him."

"Changed how?" Asked Tonks curiously. "Has he developed metamorph abilities somehow?"

"He looks- human," said Snape. "I do not know how. I do not think it is an enchantment." He looked at Harry again. "But why did you ask that, Potter?"

"He-looked different when I saw him last," muttered Harry, deliberately not saying when it was. They would probably think it was in the graveyard.  
He rushed out of there before the other members of the Order started coming in. He did not want to face any unnecessary questions.

Ron and Hermione were in his room, waiting for him. Harry knew he should have expected this. By the look on their faces, he knew his days of evasion were over.

"Harry," it was Hermione who spoke. "You need to talk about it. It's eating you from the inside."

Harry looked at them both, at their concerned faces. He had to tell them. And he knew it would be a big relief to share it with someone. Perhaps, they could make better sense of it than he could.


	19. Chapter 19

There was silence in the room for a few moments after Harry had finished speaking. Neither Ron nor Hermione had spoken while Harry was talking. Harry was grateful to them for not interrupting him. He was not looking at them while he talked. And now again he kept his head down, staring at his shoes.

It was Ron who broke the silence. "Do you think You-know-who is-well-sincere?"

"Dumbledore seemed to think so," muttered Harry.

"Harry," said Hermione. "I think you should tell him about the prophecy. I mean, this is something the two of you need to work out for yourselves."

Harry was amazed. Ron and Hermione were neither disgusted nor horrified. They were only concerned for him, and in a good way. His heart felt light and he looked up at them, smiling.

"You reckon?"

"He has to know. If Dumbledore feels his changed attitude towards you is genuine, then I think you can trust that." Said Hermione.

"I still find it hard to believe," muttered Ron. "But I do trust Dumbledore. I mean, he would have said it if he thought You-know-who is upto anything bad towards you."

"I guess I should write to Tom then," muttered Harry.

"Oh, it's Tom now, I see," Hermione smirked while Ron guffawed and Harry blushed.

"We'll leave you to write your letters in peace then," grinned Ron as he grabbed Hermione's hand and dragged her out of the room. They were both chortling.

Harry was smiling like an idiot as he pulled parchment and quills towards him. Dipping the quill in the ink, he thought for a moment. Then he started writing.

"Tom," he wrote. "Dumbledore told me about the prophecy. I need to talk to you.   
Harry."

He read through the letter once again. Then he sighed deeply as he sealed the letter and gave it to Hedwig.

"I know I'm cutting it fine," he told her. "If he can't be found in time, just come to Hogwarts, ok?"

Hedwig nipped him in an affectionate way before flying out. Harry straightened. He needed to talk to Sirius. His godfather had a right to know. But Harry was not going to tell him about the prophecy. That information was not for everyone. Otherwise, Dumbledore would have told the Order long time ago. 

He did not ask himself why it was okay to tell his friends, but not his godfather. He trusted Sirius implicitly, but he knew Sirius would probably try too hard to protect him. Harry knew he had to fight his own battles. Hermione was right. This prophecy was between him and Tom. 

He went downstairs, feeling more relaxed and happy than he'd been since the day he learned of the prophecy. He wondered if Snape had left and if Sirius was free. Ron and Hermione was in the room adjoining the kitchen. Fred, George and Ginny were also there. They all kept shooting glances at the kitchen.

"Big meeting going on," whispered Fred. "No way to overhear though."

"Is that why Snape is here?" Asked Harry, curiously.

"Snape is here?" Asked Ron. "You didn't say you met him."

"Sirius and I were talking when he came in and then Sirius sent me upstairs."

"We ought to invent some way of eavesdropping on meetings even when charms and wards are in place," said George thoughtfully. "Snape never comes unless it is top secret and very very important."

"I hope they finish soon," muttered Ron. "I'm hungry."

"As if it's new," snorted Ginny as she looked up from where she and Hermione were going through a book together. Ron ignored his sister.

"I'm curious," muttered Fred. "I wish I could listen to them."

Harry sat back. He would need to wait till the meeting finished to talk to Sirius. Right on cue, the door to the kitchen opened and people started coming out. Most of them left, declining Sirius' invitation to stay for dinner. Harry was pleased to notice he did not extend the invitation to Snape, who was among the first to leave.

After that, they were all busy in helping Mrs. Weasley set the table and prepare dinner. But Harry did manage to get close enough to Sirius to whisper, "We need to talk."

Sirius nodded. "After dinner," he whispered back.

Dinner that night was a boisterous affair with Harry laughing alongwith everyone else at Fred and George's antics and at Mundungus' descriptions of his less colourful exploits. After a long time, Harry felt he was home.


	20. Chapter 20

Sirius did not take it as well as Ron and Hermione, objecting angrily to Harry having any contact with Tom. Harry pointed out to him that Dumbledore knew and that he didn't object which made Sirius snap that Dumbledore was neither Harry’s father nor godfather. But soon he calmed down enough to think and talk logically.

"I don't like it, Harry," he muttered. "I really don't like it."

Harry sighed. "I know. And I understand. I really do. But," he shrugged. "I can't explain this. I don't understand this, but... he has changed, Sirius, and he seems to care..." he did not add that having someone who cared about him was such a rare thing for him. In fact till he started Hogwarts, he could not remember a single person who might have done so.

Sirius shook his head. "I trust Dumbledore with my life and with yours too. That is the only reason I am not going berserk here."

Harry chuckled. "There is really no need, Sirius. I can take care of myself."  
I hope, thought he, his insides growing cold at the thought of the night Tom came back. Harry had never felt so helpless in his life. And that was saying something, considering the kind of situations he'd been getting into since he started Hogwarts.

"I have no doubt about that," muttered Sirius. "But that's not going to stop me from worrying."

Harry felt his eyes prickle. "Sirius," said he. "I'm fine, really."

Sirius nodded. "I know." He put an arm on Harry's shoulder. "I can't tell you how proud I am of you. All I want is for you to be safe and happy."

"I will be," said Harry. 

They sat there in silence for a while. Harry asked Sirius something about his parents and Sirius answered. Soon, Sirius was telling him about his parents' school days. He did not know Harry's mother very well till their seventh year, but he'd known James Potter from their first year. From the Hogwarts Express in fact, which reminded Harry of how he'd first met Ron in the Hogwarts Express too.

"Did my mom have any friends who I can talk to, now?" Harry asked. He wanted to know more about his mom's school days too. 

Sirius pulled a face. "I've never paid much attention to girls. So, I've never noticed. Sorry. But you could ask Remus. He might be knowing."

"I will," Harry nodded.

As he went to his own room, Harry was far from tired. He was feeling too buoyant to sleep. The first thing he saw on entering the room was Hedwig. She hooted at seeing him, bringing his attention to a note lying on the table. 

"Have you been back long, girl?" He murmured, stroking her and feeding her an owl treat. "You found him so soon?"

She hooted again and went off to her cage. Harry picked up the note and opened it. It was very short.

"Harry,  
I'll meet you at platform Nine-and-three-quarters.   
Tom."

Harry's mind was in turmoil. Tom was coming to Platform Nine-and-three-quarters to meet him. He was not certain how safe it was. How could they talk about the prophecy on a crowded platform? The noise itself would be deafening.

But he was too glad at the prospect of seeing Tom again that he did not write back, voicing his concerns.


	21. Chapter 21

Tom looked around the crowded platform. He had his hood pulled over his head. Of course, not many knew what he looked like these days, so the chances of being recognized were minimal. He had not used any enchantment like he had in the ministry, trusting to the throng of humanity on the platform and his own changed looks to stop him from being recognized.

Tom was transported to his own childhood as he stood on the platform. Thus had he stood once, one among many, eager to go back to Hogwarts, his school, his one real home. He wondered how it might have turned out for him had he been accepted for a teaching position when he had first applied for it, fresh out of school. He grimaced. Not much would have changed, probably. After all, he had never wanted to be a teacher. He had only wanted to stay on in Hogwarts.

He moved back unobtrusively, away from the uniformed children and the parents bidding goodbye to them. His eyes scanned the crowd. It was the red-heads that caught his attention. And with it, an unexpected problem. Ginny Weasley. She was bound to recognize him. He wondered what he should do. Harry just then said something to her. She nodded and disappeared into an empty compartment. One of her brothers took Harry’s trunk from him and went into the same compartment. Harry was looking around and Tom lifted his hand to wave.

Harry came running, a black dog at his heels. Tom suppressed an inward groan. Harry did have quite a few overprotective people around him. But Tom chose to ignore the dog as he enveloped Harry in his arms.

“You look fine,” said Tom, grinning as he looked at Harry. Harry looked happy. And it made Tom glad.

“I am now,” said he. “I told my friends.”

Tom lifted an eyebrow, “And?”

“They were really cool about it.”

Tom noticed the dog wandering away, presumably to give them some privacy. But though it stayed out of earshot, it still watched them intently.

“Did you tell your godfather too?” 

Harry nodded. “He freaked out at first, but now he’s cool with it.”

Tom chuckled. “You have my sympathies. His freaking out can’t have been easy to take.”

“No, it wasn’t. But he was worried about me. I could understand that.”

“And you said you know about the prophecy.”

“Is it safe discussing it here?”

“No one’s going to hear us in this pandemonium. This is actually the best place for a private conversation.”

Harry smiled a bit half-heartedly and told Tom about the prophecy, word for word as Dumbledore had told him.

“Neither can live while the other survives,” murmured Tom. The words shook him more than he cared to admit. But he knew they could not be true. They could never be true. Not now.

Harry fidgeted.

“Did that worry you?” asked Tom quietly, guessing that Harry might have spent a few sleepless nights worrying about it.

Harry nodded.

“It’s bullshit,” said Tom calmly. “The best thing would be to ignore that crackpot prophecy.” 

He had spoken to reassure Harry, but even as he spoke, he realized that he was going to do just that. He was going to ignore the prophecy. 

“Just like that?” Harry was astounded.

“Just like that. I’m glad you told me. Saved me a trip to the Department of Mysteries.”

“But it’s a prophecy,” Harry protested. 

“It’s still bullshit,” muttered Tom. “I should never have paid attention to it in the first place.” 

He looked at where the dog lay, its watchful eyes still on them.

“Do you think it’s safe for him to be out like that?”

“Probably not,” muttered Harry. “But he’s been cooped up in the house for so long.”

Tom nodded. “Don’t even think about that damn prophecy.” He paused. “Is she any good? She teaches at Hogwarts now, doesn’t she?”

“Trelawney? She’s a right old fraud. But she did make this prophecy. And another…” his voice trailed off.

“Another?”

So Harry told him about her prediction regarding Wormtail and the rise of Voldemort.

“Ah well, she was bound to get one right,” Tom grinned, though he did feel uneasy and shaken. That prophecy hit too close to home for his comfort. But he would make certain that the other one would not come true.

Harry grinned too. He could not help it. “I’ve to go,” said he. “The train’s about to leave.”

“Send me an owl with the date of your Hogsmeade weekend,” said Tom. 

“You’ll come there?”

“Why else would I want the date?” asked Tom, amused. 

“That's the whistle. I've to run! Bye!” and Harry ran off, the dog following.

Tom waited till the train had left before following the dog to outside the station.


	22. Chapter 22

The dog took on human form in a deserted alleyway. Black had his wand out, Tom noticed.

“Why are you following me?” he asked; his voice tight with anger and suspicion.

“You claim to care for Harry,” replied Tom. “If you do, stop doing stupid things and stay somewhere safe. I don’t think he’s going to be too happy if your recklessness causes you to get into trouble.”

“Says the man who murdered his parents,” sneered Black.

“I cannot change what happened,” remarked Tom. “But what you do now is on you, Black. If Harry loses you, it’s going to destroy him.”

Black stared at Tom. “You really care for him, don’t you?”

“I do, but the question is, do you?”

“What kind of question is that?” bristled Black.

“You are no longer in school, Black and you are facing more than a detention if you get caught. Stop taking stupid risks and learn some responsibility, for Harry’s sake.”

Black lunged at him, snarling, wand forgotten. Tom stopped him with a mere flick of his wand, freezing him in the air. “You can be angry or you can be sensible. It is your choice. I couldn’t care less about whether you live or die or rot in prison, except for how it might affect Harry. He happens to love you. You are the nearest thing to a father he has. But if you care more for seeking thrills than about your godson, that is on your head.”

He released Black who crumpled to the ground. “Then why don’t you turn Wormtail into the authorities and clear my name?” gasped Black, pushing himself up painfully.

“Wormtail happened to be of great assistance to me at a time when I needed him,” said Tom coldly. “Whatever his reasons, he helped me. And I’m not about to reward it by betraying him. I might soon run out of followers, were I to do such things.”

"Really? Fear of you not enough to keep them?"

Tom shrugged. "Don't change the topic. Your priority should be to stay out of prison!"

“Where I am right now, is no different to prison,” Black grated out. 

“I hardly think your parents’ house is as bad as an Azkaban cell,” replied Tom.

“You lived in an orphanage once, didn’t you?” Black asked.

Tom’s lips compressed in anger, but he nodded. 

“Just imagine how it would feel if you were forced to be in that place now, day in day out! I am not doing this for thrills, Riddle! You have no idea how it is for me!”

“I spent twelve years without a body, Black,” said Tom. “So, forgive me if I don’t feel any sympathy for your plight.”

“And I spent twelve years in Azkaban, having the Dementors suck out every good thing in my life! It was as good as being without a body considering I spent the major part of it as a dog!"

“I have no interest in your whining, Black. Harry is my only concern. But if you are determined to drown in self-pity and neglect him, so be it. I have other things to do.”

He turned around and disapparated back to Malfoy Manor, leaving Black alone, in the alley.


	23. Chapter 23

Tom paced the room, aware of the gazes of his death-eaters on him. He was worried. Harry cared very deeply for Black. But the mutt was oblivious to danger. He'd need to find a way to keep Black safe and out of prison. But right now, he had other concerns.

"Lucius!" He snarled.

"My Lord?" Malfoy bowed.

"How are our plans for breaking the Lestranges and others out of Azkaban going?"

"Everything is in place, my Lord. We're only waiting for the final go ahead from the Dementors."

"They will join us?"

"They are honoured to do so. The Ministry had not -ah- allowed them much scope for indulging themselves."

"Good. And how about our plans for overthrowing the ministry?"

"A forcible takeover might not be possible at the moment," said Lucius apologetically. "In spite of how much the ministry has discredited him, Dumbledore and his Order of the Phoenix still grows stronger, if our friend, Snape is to be believed."

"Severus?"

"The old fool has a dedicated- ah- fan base," replied Snape. "Most of them consider every word spoken by him as gospel. And yes, their numbers are growing."

"We cannot move openly against the ministry or Dumbledore as things stand at present then," murmured Tom. "We need to strengthen our position. And we need to weaken our enemy."

He looked at Malfoy. "Contact the Dementors. Offer them a whole town of Muggles, if necessary, but our people must be freed before long."

The death eaters bowed and started leaving. Tom sat down on his chair, "Stay, Severus."

Snape stayed behind as the rest of the death eaters filed out, the last one closing the door behind him. 

"Ensure we are not overheard."

Snape complied and bowed again once the necessary charms have been cast. Tom watched Snape's still form, his face impassive.

"How much do you hate Sirius Black?" He asked now.

Snape's impassive mask cracked as a look of loathing appeared on his face. 

"Black tried to kill me," he said, bringing himself back under control. "And I would dearly love to return the favour."

"And if I ask that you see to it that Black stays safe?"

Snape stilled. Then he said, "I live to serve, though I might ask why I am charged with this mission."

"Who else, Severus? Dumbledore trusts you. And you have access to Black. He's forced to stay cooped up in his parents' house, a house he hates. It's a situation that could get him into trouble, unless someone were to keep an eye on him."

"I have to be in Hogwarts, my Lord." Snape reminded him. "It won't be possible for me to keep an eye on Black."

"Make it possible Severus. This takes priority."

Snape bowed. "It is not my place to question, but why the sudden interest to keep Black safe, my Lord?"

Tom shrugged. "His brother was a loyal follower, one whom I failed to reward adequately. I'll keep Black safe."

Snape was silent for a moment, and then he bowed. "I'll keep an eye on Black."

Tom watched Snape leave. He sighed. He did have misgivings, but his options were severely limited. He scratched his chin. He did not think Snape had accepted the reason he gave. At worst, Snape would believe Black had come over to the dark side and is now a spy. 

Tom shrugged. There were worse things to believe.


	24. Chapter 24

Hermione looked at Harry. She seemed worried. 

"If you won't go to Dumbledore, at least write to Tom," said she. 

"I only told her the truth," Harry said stubbornly. "Tom is back. And we all know he's not going to sit back and relax. Dumbledore said in spite of how he is towards me, he's still not a good guy."

"Harry," said Ron. "Either you can be Tom's friend or his enemy. You can't be both, mate."

"It's not that easy," sighed Harry. "I know Tom won't harm me. But that does not mean he won't harm anyone. He killed Cedric just because he was there. I don't want that to happen to anyone else. And Umbridge saying Cedric's death is an accident is an insult to his memory!"

"I know all that, Harry," nodded Hermione. "But you can't take on Umbridge by yourself. She's more than a teacher. She's a ministry official. She's Fudge's eyes and ears and mouthpiece in Hogwarts. And she's really twisted in her own way."

"I am not going to go running to anyone." Said Harry. He did not know why he hesitated to contact Tom. But though he might have been happy if everyone believed him when he said Tom had returned, now there was a part of him that worried about Tom's safety too. 

"I did write to Sirius," he said at last. 

"Harry," there was reproach in Hermione's voice. "If that letter is intercepted in any way.."

"I didn't put anything in that letter that could be dangerous to Sirius." Harry said. "But I had to talk to someone."

"I'm glad you chose Sirius and not Tom," muttered Ron.

"Tom can handle himself better than Sirius if Harry's letter were to be intercepted by the ministry," replied Hermione acerbically. 

"That's true anyway," muttered Ron. "Have you any idea what we're supposed to do with this?" Holding up his divination homework.

Harry shrugged. "Wish I could chuck it in the fire."

"Wish I could chuck Umbridge in the fire," muttered Ron. "Nasty old hag."

Harry chuckled. "If we don't go for breakfast now, we'll have to go to class without it. I don't know about you, but I'd rather starve than be late to Snape's class."

"If I have to choose between detentions with Snape and Umbridge, I'll choose Snape any day," muttered Ron as he started packing away quills and parchments back into his bag.

"So, now you know there are worse things than Snape," smirked Hermione.

They had a hurried breakfast and reached Snape's class five minutes after the bell rang.

"Detention, Potter, at five," said Snape in a bored voice as they took their seats. Malfoy snickered. 

"Git!" Muttered Ron viciously. Harry was not certain if he meant Snape or Malfoy.

"We were all late and he gave only you detention," Ron shook his head as they made their way to the green houses. "That's really tough."

"Yea? I'm used to it by now," Harry said dejectedly. He had just caught up with all his homework and here he was in detention again. The unfairness of the whole situation with Snape was making him angry. 

At five, Harry presented himself promptly in front of Snape's dungeon. Snape let him enter without comment and locked the door, muttering an unfamiliar enchantment. 

Harry looked around and-

"Sirius!" he exclaimed, grinning widely as his god father got up from the chair he was sitting in with an equally wide grin. 

"How?" Asked Harry. 

"I arranged it with Snape," said Sirius. "He's my baby sitter now,"

Harry turned around to see Snape standing near to the door. "Thank you." Said he with real gratitude.

"Don't thank me, Potter." Said Snape. "For some reason, the Dark Lord wants to keep Black safe. He entrusted me with the responsibility. There was little I could do with him in Headquarters and me in Hogwarts. So, we arranged it with Dumbledore to have him stay here with me."

"But...but.." spluttered Harry. "What about Umbridge?"

"I do have the means to spirit him away to Headquarters should Dolores Umbridge decide to search my dungeons." Snape's voice was dry.

"Wait..." said Harry. "You said the Dark Lord asked you to keep him safe?"

"Yes, he did apparently," muttered Sirius. "He thinks I'm an irresponsible godfather. He gave me a lecture on it too!"

"What!" Exclaimed Harry weakly as he sank into a chair. "He gave you a lecture?"

Sirius nodded. "After I left the platform the day I came to see you off."

"A very ill-judged decision," remarked Snape. 

"No one asked you!" snapped Sirius. "Though your master was brutally frank!"

"Tom?" Said Harry again, unable to believe it.

"Tom?" Asked Snape, his voice sounding strange. "You call the Dark Lord Tom?"

"He asked me to call him that," said Harry a bit defensively.

Snape stared at Harry. "I might be going insane, I think. Why would the Dark Lord ask you to call him anything?"

"Because they're friends now," said Sirius. 

"Friends." Repeated Snape, "The Boy Who Lived and the Dark Lord. Friends."

"Why not?" Bristled Harry. 

Snape's glance at him was full of loathing. "He killed your parents! You are so pathetic, Potter!"

"Don't use that tone with Harry," snapped Sirius. 

"He killed your best friend and you are okay with your godson being friends with him?" Demanded Snape.

"I don't see why that is any of your concern," began Sirius angrily and then stopped. "Oh," said he, his voice and expression softening a bit. "I'd forgotten," 

There was a peculiar expression on his face as he looked at Snape.

"Forgotten what?" Asked Harry.

"Nothing important," said Sirius, turning his attention back to Harry. "Just something from our school days." 

He smiled at his godson. "It's so good to see you. But let's get to what you said in your letter."

Harry noticed almost absently that Snape had left the room.


	25. Chapter 25

Harry sat next to Sirius in the rather uncomfortable couch in the room. In spite of all his misgivings on Sirius being here, he still had to acknowledge it was a relief to know Sirius was here, right next to him. Not that he meant to come running to Sirius for any reason, but just the knowledge that he would be there if Harry needed him was enough.

"I can think of a million things wrong with this arrangement." He said now, trying to distract Sirius. Sirius had discovered the words on the back of Harry's hand.

"Those quills are illegal," Sirius said grimly as his fingers traced the lines etched on to the back of Harry's hand. "And while I've had better living arrangements, it certainly beats staying in my parents' house with only Kreacher for company. Though there isn't much to choose between Snape and Kreacher when it comes to company."

Harry managed a chuckle while pulling his hand from Sirius' grasp. "Is he being nasty to you?"

Sirius shrugged. "No. He's just ignoring my existence which actually suits me. Of course, I am being very polite and civil for your sake, but I guess such things are beyond Snape."

"I wish he would ignore my existence," muttered Harry. "That would make my life a lot simpler."

"Perhaps you should tell Tom about the way Snape treats you," teased Sirius with a sly smile.

Harry mock-punched him and Sirius laughed. It struck Harry that he hadn't heard Sirius laugh in a long time. Being away from Grimmauld Place was obviously agreeing with him. But Harry was still worried about the risks involved. The ministry still believed that Sirius was a dark wizard and a murderer. And Umbridge lived right here in the school. He remembered Barty Crouch in the guise of Moody searching Snape's office in his fourth year. What if Fudge passed some law that allowed Umbridge to search other teachers' offices? What if some Slytherin spotted Sirius and reported to Umbridge?

But as he looked at the relaxed and smiling face of his Godfather, he could not bring himself to ask him to return to Grimmauld Place. 

"This is too risky, your being here," he muttered at last.

"That makes it all the more fun," replied Sirius cheerfully. "Perhaps I can join you in your next Hogsmeade weekend as Snuffles?"

"No!" Exclaimed Harry. "Malfoy recognized you at the platform the other day! And Umbridge is right here! Malfoy wouldn't need to go far to turn you in!"

Sirius' face changed a bit. "I see," said he, his voice flat. "You are less like your father than I thought. The risk is what would've made it fun for James."

"I just don't want you going back to Azkaban," said Harry.

Just then Snape came in. 

"It might look suspicious if you leave my office looking happy after detention," he remarked. He looked offended at the very idea of a happy student. "I believe we have sufficient time remaining for you to do your detention." Snape looked at Black. "If you can just go back to your quarters, Black."

Harry could feel from Snape's rigid stance that he was expecting Sirius to argue this point. But to his surprise, Sirius rose with alacrity. 

"Certainly," he said coldly as he walked out of the room.

"Come with me," said Snape as he led Harry into another room. "You will be chopping potion ingredients for me. All these must be cut finely and uniformly. If they are not, we can do this again tomorrow."

Harry muttered darkly as he went to work. But, thought he, as he started on the huge pile of valerian roots, he was one with Ron in preferring to dice potion ingredients for Snape to doing lines with Umbridge.


	26. Chapter 26

Ron and Hermione were astonished to hear that Sirius was in Hogwarts. Like Harry, Hermione too was full of apprehensions, but Ron didn't think there was much to worry about.

"If there was any risk, Dumbledore would never have allowed it," he said. "He must have felt it was fairly safe. But I can't believe Tom actually asked Snape to keep Sirius safe. I mean, why Snape? He hates Sirius."

"Well, he couldn't have asked anybody else," said Hermione reasonably. "Snape was the only one of his Death Eaters who could have come anywhere close to Sirius, even to keep him safe."

"He does believe Snape is on his side," said Harry thoughtfully. "And Dumbledore believes Snape is on our side. Which of them is right, do you reckon?"

"I wouldn't bet on this," said Ron. "If Snape can fool You-know-who, he can easily fool Dumbledore. And if he can fool Dumbledore, then he should be able to fool You-know-who... what am I saying?"

"Tying yourself up in knots," said Hermione helpfully. 

"Maybe he's fooling them both," muttered Harry. "Maybe he has some agenda of his own."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Dumbledore trusts Snape. That should be good enough for us."

"It isn't good enough for me," Harry sighed. "I wish I knew why Dumbledore trusts him."

"I would as liefer know why You-know-who trusts him," muttered Ron.

"It's Tom now, Ron," said Hermione.

"Whatever. Beats me why he asked Snape to keep Sirius safe, though. I mean, why should he care what happened to Sirius."

"Because he cares for Harry, Ron." Said Hermione with the patient air of someone explaining something to a child.

"He killed my parents," said Harry. He did not know why he said that. He had almost forgotten all the things Tom did, till Snape reminded him. How could he even care for Tom after all that he'd done? His parents, Cedric, Bertha Jorkins, Quirrel, that muggle in his dream, and Merlin knew how many others. Not to mention the number of times he'd tried to kill Harry starting from when he was one. How could he have forgotten all that?

"He's changed, Harry," said Hermione quietly. "But he can't change all the things that had happened; all the things that he did. But he does care for you now."

"He never said... he never even said sorry... he never..." 

Harry didn't know why it felt important to him. Perhaps Tom cared for him, but he had done a lot of terrible things. And he'd never once expressed regret. He remembered Dumbledore telling him that Tom was far from being good. But Harry had chosen not to pay attention. It took Snape to remind him of what Tom was. Pathetic was what Snape called him. And right now. Harry felt that for once, Snape was right. What did it matter if Tom cared for him when he would keep doing the terrible things he'd done till then without regret? And he'd conveniently ignored all that because of - what? Pathetic didn't even begin to cut it.

"Harry," Hermione spoke softly. "What could he possibly say that would make things okay? What apology could he make? This... this ensuring Sirius' safety... this is his way of apologizing..."

"Since when did you become an expert on You-know-who?" Asked Ron. "I mean, he could be plotting to take over the wizarding world even as we sit here, debating if he's good or not."

"Maybe the wizarding world needs that," snapped Hermione. "We all criticize the way Tom targets muggles and muggle-borns and other non-humans, but is the ministry any better? We have them drafting anti-werewolf legislations and not a single law to improve the lot of House-elves! And all Fudge cares about is staying in office that he doesn't even care to know the truth. He's sent this foul Umbridge woman here to spy on and terrorize the students! She even uses illegal objects to do that. How can Tom be worse than this?"

"Because he tortures and murders for fun?" Ron sounded angry too. "You don't know what it was like the last time, Hermione. Your parents are muggles. My parents have told me all about it. It was a dark time and we did not know who to trust and who not to. The Order was not so well-organized and the Death-Eaters were just picking them off like flies! People were afraid to go out of their homes! Whole villages of muggles were wiped out!"

"I don't believe Tom would do anything like that, now," said Hermione. "I mean he's been back for so long and he's not hurt anyone. I don't think he's killed a single person since he came back."

"That doesn't mean he won't," said Harry heavily. He rose. "I'm going to bed."

He was aware of Hermione's anxious eyes following him as he went upto the dormitory. But he just could not sit there and listen to them discussing the merits of Tom ruling the wizarding community vis-a-vis the ministry. The ministry made bad choices, but that was Fudge and Umbridge. And no matter how foul they were, they still did not torture and murder anyone.


	27. Chapter 27

Tom was relieved. The date for the Azkaban breakout was finally fixed. It would also be the day when the Dementors finally left the ministry to join him. He would have his faithful Death-eaters with him. And he would have strong allies. He already had the giants. But once the Dementors were also on his side, he could make his demands to the ministry. 

He would be strong enough for a coup, but he ought to give them a chance to surrender. For Harry's sake, he did not want to shed any more blood. The Azkaban break-out was to be a clean affair. No killings. His instructions to his Death-Eaters were clear. They were to defend themselves, but they would not initiate attacks. And they would not attack to kill. They could stun or disarm, but no Unforgivables were to be used. 

He knew his Death-Eaters were surprised and confused by his instructions, but they were used to obeying without question. They had agreed to what he said and had departed. All except Snape.

"Severus?" He queried. "Is there something you wish to say?"

"Valentine's Day," said Snape.

"What of it?" Tom was confused.

"The date of the next Hogsmeade weekend." Said Snape impassively. "I thought you should know." He paused. "Potter is not feeling very charitable towards you right now. He has formed an illegal club in the school to train the students in Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"Harry is angry with me?" Tom was surprised. Of course he should have known something was wrong when Harry did not owl him the date of the first Hogsmeade weekend as he had asked him to. And now, the next one was nearing too. 

"I think so," said Snape. "But he is not in the habit of confiding in me, so I would not know. I assumed it from the way he formed his club. He always had scant regard for school rules."

"Why do you dislike him so much, Severus?" Asked Tom. "You cared for his mother once."

"I hated his father. And he is James Potter all over again."

"In appearance, yes. But have you ever tried to get to know him better that you can be certain he's like his father?"

"Why your sudden liking for Potter?" Asked Snape and then he closed his mouth. "I know it is not my place to question," he said.

Snape was afraid, Tom realized. He still looked as impassive as ever, but he was waiting to be punished for his presumption. And what surprised Tom most was that Snape's question has not angered him. There was a time when his impertinence would have earned him a Crucio, but now Tom only felt a faint regret that he should have terrorized his own followers like that. 

"Close the door, Severus and make sure we are not disturbed or eavesdropped upon."

Snape hastened to comply, but Tom could see that he was bracing himself for a Crucio. Tom sat down and waved Snape to another chair. He could see Snape's confusion. 

"I must have been a nasty piece of work," he spoke aloud. "Thank Merlin I have changed."

Snape looked quite bewildered. "My Lord?"

"I shall answer your question, Severus. But if you repeat any of this to Dumbledore, I shall make Crucio look like a rejuvenating massage. Are we clear?"

Snape nodded. 

"Do you know why Potter is alive? How he survived my killing curse?"

He did not wait for Snape's answer.

"Because his mother gave her life for him." He paused. "She need not have died, I asked her to stand aside, but she would not stop shielding him. And so to get to him, I killed her." He paused again. "That activated an old magic. The boy was protected by her sacrifice. He could not be killed and my curse rebounded upon myself. All this, many now know. You may also know. But what most people do not know is that the magical protection lingers forever. It is in his very blood, the protection given by his mother's sacrifice. It prevented me from even touching him at one time."

"What happened to change it?" Asked Snape, as if he both dreaded and longed for what Tom was about to tell him.

"When I invented the spell to regenerate myself, I decided I would use Harry's blood. The blood of any wizard who hated me might have done, but I wanted Harry. I thought, quite foolishly, that I could get the protection in his veins for myself and also that I would be able to touch him once his blood was in my veins."

"It didn't happen?"

"Oh, yes, it did. But my knowledge of the blood magic was scanty at best. It had some unexpected consequences. In my ignorance and my arrogance I took his blood and them I touched the boy, just to prove my point. It activated the love magic inherent in his protection. After all, love was what caused his mother to sacrifice her life to protect him."

"So you started-what?-loving him?"

"No Severus. I did not start loving him. But I did stop hating him. And the magic also restored my old body to me, the one I had before I became what I was. Since what happened was unexpected, I was confused. I wanted to learn more about the blood magic. I could not get much, but enough to understand that while the effects of the magic were irreversible, they need not be permanent."

Snape looked confused. Tom sighed. Even the most intelligent of his followers found it difficult to comprehend the simplest of things.

"The magic made me stop hating Harry. While I could not reverse that, I had the choice to start hating him again."

"But you didn't."

"I was given a fresh slate. I was not decided on how to fill it. I decided to pay the boy a visit. I went to him, only to find him fending off two Dementors!"

"It was you, at the hearing!" Snape exclaimed.

"Yes, Severus. It was me. Well, you might imagine what happened. I went to the boy, I had no feelings for him. But I watched him fend of two Dementors by himself, I watched him save a worthless sack of muggle meat that was his cousin, and I could not but remember how, at just eleven, he'd been prepared to take me on to save the Philosopher's stone. I also remembered the accounts I'd heard of how he'd gone into the Chamber of Secrets at twelve to save his friend's sister. And I remembered how he faced me last year. He would have fought me, had opportunity presented itself." Tom sighed. "Before the magic, I might have found it presumptuous on his part and I might have been filled with anger. But now, all I could feel was admiration for his courage, for his heart, for his willingness to go into danger to save others. And that was how it actually started. From there, it was a small step to caring for him."

"So much so that you asked me to ensure his Godfather's safety."

"I deprived him of his parents. The least I could do was to ensure that his Godfather at least is not taken from him."

"Black is irresponsible and arrogant. He resents all restrictions. It is not an easy matter to keep him safe when he has such scant regard for it."

"And yet, you will keep him safe, Severus. You will not like the consequences if you don't." Tom's voice was steely. Snape had to do this. He had to lay his personal animosity towards Black aside and keep him safe.

Snape swallowed. "I shall do my best."  
Tom inclined his head, indicating to Snape that their conversation was done. He ignored the twinge of shame he felt on seeing the fleeting look of fear on Snape's face.


	28. Chapter 28

Tom sat still for a few minutes after Snape had left. He pushed his hood back. His face was thoughtful. Harry was angry with him? He could not think of what he'd done to earn that. He'd assumed Harry's silence was because of the ministry's new measures. Owls in and out of Hogwarts were being subjected to searches. Tom had, in fact, been relieved that Harry had been sensible enough not to write to him. 

But now he was worried. He had to see Harry. Valentine's Day was too far off. It was not even Christmas yet. Not that such celebrations held any meaning for him. But they were a useful way to keep track of the passage of time.

He regretted not sending a message with Severus. But he also knew a simple message would not have sufficed. He had to meet Harry in person. He raked his hand through his hair. His hair had started growing back after the spell started changing him. It was now as thick as it had been during his school days. 

He knew what to do, but was not happy about it. Asking Dumbledore for help went against everything he stood for. But he was desperate. He had to see Harry.

He rose and walked out, pulling his hood over his head, throwing his face in shadow. Lucius Malfoy came running.

"Is there anything you require, my Lord?"

"I'm going out," said Tom. "I might not be back tonight."

"All right, my Lord,” Tom smiled grimly at the relief Malfoy tried so hard to conceal. 

"Your son is in Harry Potter's year, is he not?"

"Yes, my Lord," Lucius sounded anxious.

"I have a mission for him. Have him meet me when he's home for Christmas."

"M-mission, my Lord?" Lucius tried to hide it, but he seemed more scared than elated.

"It's nothing dangerous, Lucius," said Tom. "But I need to test his loyalty."

He would not have given that reassurance at one time, thought he. He would simply have enjoyed watching Lucius squirm.

"Of course, of course my Lord," Lucius was spluttering now, his relief evident.

Tom nearly snorted aloud as he went out of the house. He apparated into Hogsmeade. The sun was setting and the village lay quiet. Tom made his way into the Hog's Head. He knew who the barman was though he'd never used that information before. 

He sat down at a corner. The barman came to him, 

"What will you have?"

"A meeting with your brother," Tom spoke softly, his voice audible only to the two of them. The barman was still, then he sat down on the opposite chair.   
"You know who I am."

"You are Aberforth Dumbledore, younger brother of Albus Dumbledore. I wish to meet your brother. It is rather urgent."

"You could just go upto the castle," he suggested, the shrewd blue eyes, so like his brother's, never leaving Tom's face. Tom knew his face was in the shadow, but it seemed as if the blue eyes were piercing the shadows.

"If I could do that, I wouldn't be here now, would I?"

"Remove that hood first. I need to see your face."

"It will not mean much to you," said Tom, though he complied. 

Aberforth looked at Tom for a long moment, his brow furrowed, as if trying to remember him.

"Tom Riddle!" He breathed finally. He rose rather shakily. "Why do you want to talk to Albus?"

"It's a personal matter. I mean him no harm."

"I'm not worried about that," said Aberforth grimly. "I'll let Albus know you are here. Have a drink in the meantime and put that hood back up. You don't want to attract anyone's attention."

"I would have thought you'd be eager to have me expose myself," remarked Tom as he pulled his hood back up and accepted the glass of firewhiskey Aberforth put in front of him. 

"I think you are confusing me with Albus," said Aberforth. "I just don't want any fighting in my inn."

"Fair enough," murmured Tom as Aberforth went to an inside room, presumably to contact Dumbledore. He took a sip of his drink and grimaced. He'd never liked strong drinks, not even in his student days. But he really had nothing better to do, so he took another sip. It wasn't too bad this time. By the time he'd finished half his glass, Dumbledore had arrived. 

Dumbledore sat down opposite Tom while Aberforth went back to man the bar. 

"Well, Tom? You wished to speak to me?"

"I need to talk to Harry," said Tom without preamble. 

Dumbledore seemed slightly taken aback by the bluntness of the request, but he recovered his composure almost immediately.

"And what, if I may ask, is so urgent that you should come here at this hour to demand this?"

"I... I haven't heard from him since term started. I understand owls from and to Hogwarts are being searched. This seemed like the best option."

"You couldn't have waited till the Christmas break?"

"And then what? He'd either be here or with the Weasleys or at his godfather's place. The situation will not change much."

"Harry is well. He is in his OWL year and has a lot on his mind." Said Dumbledore. "Is it necessary for you to see him?"

"I wouldn't be here otherwise. I wish to see for myself that he is, indeed, well."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "You sound as if Harry's well-being is your concern. Don't forget there are others around him who are more committed to it."

"Look," said Tom impatiently. "I want to see him. A simple yes or no would suffice. There's no purpose in all this interrogation."

Dumbledore nodded and rose. "Come," said he, as he walked towards the room into which Aberforth had earlier disappeared. Tom followed, looking around him curiously. There was a fire burning in the grate and Dumbledore put his hand in his pocket to bring out a small drawstring bag.

"We're Flooing to Hogwarts?"

"It's the easiest and most convenient way."

"The ministry is not watching the Floo network?"

"Only the teachers' Floos at the moment. The headmaster's Floo is still safe."

Tom lifted an eyebrow, "I thought you were Fudge's number one target?"

"I have an old student in the department monitoring the floo network. He disables the surveillance when I require it of him."

Tom chuckled. "Not above common humanity after all,"

Dumbledore shrugged, "I never claimed to be."

Tom followed Dumbledore into the Fireplace. "Headmaster's study, Hogwarts," said he clearly and closed his eyes. He supposed it must have been because he was brought up among muggles, but he had never got the hang of travelling by Floo. He was almost afraid of it which was why he kept his eyes closed whenever he had to travel by Floo.

He stepped out of the grate and opened his eyes. The headmaster's room looked different from the last time he was here. He pulled out his wand to remove the soot and grime off him and sat down on one of the chairs, pulling his hood back. 

There was a collective gasp from the portraits of the previous headmasters with Armado Dippet muttering darkly about what a snake Tom Riddle turned out to be. Tom could sense the disappointment in his old Headmaster's voice, and that made him angry.

"What else did you expect a Slytherin to turn out to be?" He sneered.

Dumbledore sighed, "You don't have to be nasty to him." Said he quietly.

"I'm not a nice person," retorted Tom.

"I shall send for Harry," said Dumbledore, making a gesture with his wand.

Tom nodded. Two minutes later, Dumbledore sighed. 

"Harry's asleep," he said.

Tom lifted an eyebrow. "Already?"

"He's had a long day and quite a few sleepless nights." Replied Dumbledore. "I will take you to him once the other students are asleep."

Tom was surprised and Dumbledore chuckled. 

"What? Did you think I was going to just send you off?"

"I wouldn't have left," said Tom honestly.

"I know," smiled Dumbledore. "And I wouldn't have expected you to either."

"I seem to have some time to kill," said Tom. 

"You can borrow my books," said Dumbledore, waving his hand at the huge bookcase that stood at one corner. Tom rose to inspect its contents and sucked in a breath. It contained many books that dealt with the blood magic that Dumbledore used to protect Harry.

"I did think you might be curious about those," murmured Dumbledore.

"As omniscient as ever," said Tom shakily as he withdrew one of the large tomes and sat down in one of the less comfortable armchairs.


	29. Chapter 29

Someone was saying his name over and over again. 

"Harry! Harry, wake up!"

"Jus' a minute" Harry muttered groggily.

A hand shook his shoulder. "Harry?"

Harry opened his eyes and closed them again as he wondered what woke him. It was still dark. He was in Gryffindor Tower in the boys' dormitory. The next day was a Sunday and so, he could sleep in if he wished...

"I know you are awake," a familiar voice spoke from the side of the bed.

Harry opened his eyes and sat up. "Tom?" Tom put his glasses on him and Harry could see him clearly.

Tom smiled at him, but it was a really hesitant smile. Like he was nervous.

"Hi," said he. "You hadn't written as you said you would. So I thought I would pay you a visit."

Whatever anger Harry held, all melted away at the sight of Tom and his slightly nervous smile.

"I've had a rough year," he said. "I'm sorry I didn't write, but the owls..."

Tom nodded. "I know about the ministry reforms."

"Yea, they're crazy," Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes and put them back on. Tom caught his hand with a sharp intake of breath.

"What is this?" His voice was flat, totally devoid of all emotion.

Harry cursed himself for forgetting about the scars. But he did not want Tom to do something rash.

"It's... nothing, Tom. It's fine, really."

Tom lifted Harry's hand to read the words etched on to the skin. His lips thinned. "Who did this?"

Harry drew out his hand from Tom's grasp and put it on his arm. "Tom, I am not going to tell you if you are going to do something nasty to whoever did this."

"Don't tell me you're not angry!"

"I am, but it's between us. I don't want you interfering."

"You can't expect that from me." 

"Then I'm not going to tell you anything."

Tom looked like he was struggling with something. Finally he grated out, "Fine! I won't do anything to this person. Now who is it?"

"Umbridge," said Harry. 

"The ministry witch? She's the one doing this illegal thing?"

"Yea, she's the High Inquisitor now, inspects other teachers and Trelawney's already on probation." Harry paused. "She's also given me, Fred and George a lifelong ban from playing Quidditch."

"Give me back my promise," demanded Tom. 

"Why?" Asked Harry. "Because she banned me from playing Quidditch?"

"I am not interested in Quidditch, never have been. And I don't know Fred and George from Adam. But I do know that this game and these people mean a great deal to you. So, yes, I would like to have my promise back."

Harry shook his head, still smiling. "Too late."

"But I must vindicate you at least," said he, lifting Harry's hand again. "They call you a liar. I must at least prove you are not."

Harry's breath caught. "Tom! What are you planning to do?"

Tom looked at Harry. "I won't harm anyone, but I do intend to put some fear into them." He kissed Harry's hand, on the scars of the words that Umbridge had forced him to carve into his own skin. "Don't worry."

"If I told you that, would you listen?"

"Probably not," sighed Tom. "But it's not the same."

"Yes, it is," said Harry.

They were both silent for a while. Then Tom said. "You went to bed early today? Dumbledore had sent a message."

Harry flushed. "Um... I was not in the mood... it was today, you see.. the ban... and then we went out to see Hagrid, because he just came back today..."

"Hagrid," said Tom in an odd voice.

"If you're going to say anything disparaging about Hagrid, I'm going to kick you out. It's because of you that he's never had a chance to finish his education!"

Tom went pale. "I regret it," said he quietly.

Harry snorted. "Next you'll say you regret opening the chamber of secrets too. At least, make it believable Tom!"

Tom went even paler. "You don't believe me?"

Harry's eyes softened. "I believe you care for me, Tom. But anything further than that," he shook his head. "Sorry."

Tom nodded. "Fair enough." He rose. "I should be going." He bent down and kissed Harry on the forehead. "Good night, Harry."

Harry sighed as he lay back down. He hoped Tom would not do anything foolish.


	30. Chapter 30

Tom was frowning as he went back to Dumbledore's room. Dumbledore gave him a sharp gaze.

"Did you know what Umbridge was doing to Harry?" He could not help the accusation in his voice. Dumbledore was supposed to keep his students safe, not let that Umbridge woman do whatever she wanted with them.

"She has been given a lot of powers," said Dumbledore quietly. "I cannot stop her at the moment."

"Don't give me that!" Tom was really angry. "What is the use in being a powerful wizard if you can't even protect your students?"

"She's making a lots of rules and making things difficult for them, I agree. But that hardly warrants any drastic measures. I know Harry might be disappointed with his Quidditch ban, but-"

"I'm not talking of some stupid game!" Snarled Tom. "I'm talking of the scars on his hand!"

Dumbledore's gaze was perplexed. "Scars?"

Tom stared at Dumbledore. "Merlin! You didn't even know!" He shook his head. "So much for omniscience!"

"What scars?" Asked Dumbledore again.

"She made him write lines with a Black Quill."

Tom quailed at the look of fury that came to Dumbledore's face. He could finally see how Dumbledore might have defeated Grindelwald. Tom had never been scared of Dumbledore, though he did have some caution regarding him. But right now, Tom felt that fearing Dumbledore might not be a bad option.

"That's illegal!" Said Dumbledore, mastering himself. "I must speak with the minister."

"Yes, the minister will be keen to believe you, won't he?" Asked Tom. "How do you even know she's doing this without the minister knowing?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "What do you expect me to do?"

"We both want the same thing here," said Tom. "But your methods are not going to be effective here whereas mine..." he left his sentence unfinished.

"I can't use your methods," Dumbledore's voice was sharp.

"You don't have to. All you need to do is to turn the other way and not interfere."

"I can't let you harm her. She's a staff at Hogwarts."

"I'm not talking about her."

"I can't let you harm Cornelius either."

"I don't plan on harming him, not just yet. I only plan to give him a proper warning."

"Tom, I wish I could trust you,"

Tom made no answer to that, instead saying, "May I beg Hogwarts' hospitality for tonight?"

"You want to stay here?"

"Yes. But you need not trouble yourself. Severus might give me a bed. Or a couch at least."

Dumbledore sighed. "I will take you to him."

Snape was surprised to find Tom there.

"Severus," said Dumbledore. "Please accommodate Tom for tonight."

"Couch will do," Tom said moving into the room. 

"I do have a spare bed," said Snape tight-lipped. 

"Good night, Dumbledore," Tom smiled at his old teacher.

"Tom, don't do anything foolish," there was a note of warning in Dumbledore's voice.

"Just don't get in my way, Dumbledore," smiled Tom as he closed the door.


	31. Chapter 31

"What are you doing here?" Demanded Snape.

"Where's Black?" Asked Tom.

"Am here," Sirius came out of the back room. "Hid myself when I heard the knock. Thought it might be Umbridge."

"What are you doing here?" Asked Snape again.

"I came here to check on Harry." Said Tom.

"How did you know of his ban?" Asked Sirius.

Tom rolled his eyes. "I did not."

"That was a tough break," muttered Sirius.

"Potter and his cronies attacked Draco." Snapped Snape. "It was a well-deserved ban."

"Hello, the Malfoy kid was insulting the Weasleys' parents and Lily! Now, I don't know about you Snape, but most normal humans don't ignore insults to their mother!"

"Whereas you would join those and insult your mother alongside them, wouldn't you, Black?" 

"I'm talking of normal people here, Snape. My mother was a special case!"

"Obviously!" Snorted Snape. 

Tom was feeling quite bemused by now. He'd never seen Snape lose his cool like this. 

"Have you ever considered that you were the abnormal one, Black?" Asked Snape. "That you disappointed your parents more than they disappointed you?"

"I didn't have to consider it, Snape. They never lost an opportunity to remind me of it while they were alive!"

Tom held out his hand just as Snape opened his mouth to retort.

"Stop!" Said Tom. "Just stop!"

They looked at him, both glowering.

"Are you two always like this?" Asked Tom, feeling quite bewildered. It seemed Snape was not exaggerating when he talked of their animosity to each other. It was a surprise they had not killed each other by now.

"Well, no," said Sirius flinging himself on the couch. "Generally we ignore each other and pretend the other isn't there. If we start talking, we just might end up killing each other."

"The thought did cross my mind as to why you hadn't killed each other by now."

"Entrusting his safety to me is a very bad idea." Muttered Snape. "This cannot end well."

"Well, if you can just keep ignoring each other, I'm sure everything will work out fine," said Tom. "And please, start now, so that I can get some sleep."

"I'll show you to your room," said Snape stiffly, leading Tom through a side door. The room was small but neat and clean. The bed looked freshly made and a fire was blazing in the fireplace, lending a mellow appearance to the stark dungeon. It also imparted a pleasant warmth. 

"You and Black might be more similar than you think, Severus."

Snape's lips compressed. "I don't think so."

"You blamed him, didn't you? For betraying the Potters? And you must have felt some guilt over your own role in their death."

Snape made no answer.

"And he must have blamed you too, and himself. You lost Lily Potter and he lost James Potter."

"You were the one who killed them," Snape said flatly. "Can't you at least not talk about them?"

Tom was taken aback. He did not know why he kept talking about Harry's parents. Maybe because they were Harry's parents. But Snape was right. He had killed them. However much he might have changed, he could not change the things he did.

"Just keep Black safe. I don't care how you do it. But you will keep him safe." Tom's voice was cold. But he was more angry with himself than with anyone else.


	32. Chapter 32

Harry sat in Grimmauld Place with a sinking feeling in his stomach. His dream had been really weird. It was Tom's snake that attacked Mr. Weasley, he was sure of it. But why did Tom send his snake to the ministry? Why did he ask it to attack Mr. Weasley? And why did Harry see everything as the snake?

He looked at Ron and Ginny and Fred and George and Sirius, all huddled in their own chairs. Dumbledore had sent Sirius with them to Grimmauld Place. Sirius looked quite happy about it. Being with Snape couldn't have been fun. 

Harry closed his eyes. He needed to talk to Tom. He had to find out what actually happened. But first, he had to know Mr. Weasley was all right. Harry was confused about his dream still. How could he have been the snake? He was not, was he? He did not attack Mr. Weasley, did he?

He rubbed his eyes. He had to see Tom. Or Dumbledore. Tom and Dumbledore were the only ones who were likely to know anything about what happened. He hoped that Dumbledore would come to Grimmauld Place and explain to him. But he was likely to be busy.

Just then, someone rang the doorbell and they all sat up, only to huddle back when they saw it was Snape. He was levitating their luggage behind him. 

"Dumbledore asked me to bring these over," said he, his voice quiet. For once, there was no sneer in his tone.

Sirius thanked him as he levitated the trunks upstairs.

"Professor," asked Fred, "Is there any news of our father?"

"He's in St. Mungo's." Replied Snape. "The healers are working on him. I'm sorry I don't have more definite news." 

He turned to Harry. "Potter, our mutual friend would like to have a word with you."

"Is he here?" Asked Harry weakly. He would not have been surprised, though he knew it was not possible.

Snape shook his head. "He's at Hogwarts. But Dumbledore felt it too risky for you to go back there since Umbridge is getting too curious about the sudden disappearance of five students. He asked that a meeting be arranged when you go to St. Mungo’s."

Harry nodded. "All right," said he.

He was aware of the Weasleys all staring at him and Snape in perplexity. But they were too anxious about their father to pay much attention and so he was spared any questions. Sirius came down, rubbing his eyes and stretching his back.

"I can't find Kreacher anywhere. I'd told him to be here when I left with you."

"I don't know why you want to find that elf anyway," remarked Snape. "It's not as if he's of any help around the house."

Sirius shrugged, "You're leaving?"

"I do have a class to teach in the morning. And, please try not to get yourself killed while I'm away, Black."

"Oh Severus!" Exclaimed Black. "Could you be really concerned about me?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "That'll be the day," 

The door closed and Snape was gone. But Harry was surprised that Snape and Sirius were really civil to each other. Maybe they felt that the circumstances warranted some civility.  
He closed his eyes. He did not want to look at anyone right then, but he wished they could get some news of Mr. Weasley.


	33. Chapter 33

Harry just bolted. What Moody said, what they heard through the Extendable Ears, it couldn't be true. It just couldn't! Tom was not possessing him. Was he? It could not be true! But how could he be certain? It was true that he'd seen Tom's dreams before, felt his moods, but that did not mean that he was being possessed. 

Of course, there still was the problem that he'd seen everything through the eye of the snake. It was Nagini, Tom's snake. But what was Tom's snake doing in the ministry? It had been searching for someone when it came upon Mr. Weasley. It did not make Harry feel any better that Mr. Weasley was not Tom's target. Tom had tried to harm someone. Harry looked around him. He had just ran out from St. Mungo's and was now in an unfamiliar part of the city. He sighed. 

He sat down at a roadside cafe. He had only wizard money. He did not think he could get a coffee with it.

"Harry?" He looked up, startled to find Tom. He looked concerned as he sat down opposite Harry. He was wearing muggle clothing, Harry noticed detachedly. And he knew how to wear them too. Unlike most wizards. But then, for all his anti-muggle thoughts, he had grown up in a muggle orphanage. So, he should be knowing how to dress like a muggle.

Tom ordered two coffees and some scones. 

"What happened?" He asked now.

"Are you possessing me?" Harry asked.

"No!" Tom seemed shocked. "Why do you even need to ask that? I would never do that to you!"

"Then how did you find me?"

"We're connected, but I'm not possessing you."

"Because you don't need to," muttered Harry. "You're already in my head."

"Aren't you in mine?"

"That makes it all right I suppose."

"I didn't say that."

"Okay, you are not possessing me. But are you using our connection to make me do anything bad?"

Tom looked horrified. "I would never do that Harry!"

"Why not? You did it to Ginny."

"Harry, I... I've changed... I'm not what I was then..."

"Aren't you? Then what was your snake doing in the ministry Tom? Who was she searching for?"

"Harry, I'm sorry she hurt your friend's father. But she was scared when he went for his wand and reacted as any snake would. Believe me, I would never harm anyone dear to you."

"He's more than just Ron's father." Said Harry. "He's been really good to me. They all have been. They are just like my own family. But you're missing the point. Your snake was in the ministry for someone. What does it matter it wasn't Mr. Weasley? You..."   
Harry shook his head. "You were planning to harm someone. And someone else got hurt because he happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Just like Cedric."

Tom went as pale as death. "You can't say that," said he, his voice shaking.

"You hurt people, Tom. It's all you know to do." 

Tom went even paler. "Harry," he began when someone came running, shouting Harry's name.

"Here you are!" Fred and George were panting. "Mum was going berserk when she heard you'd run off by yourself. Moody has alerted half the order and we heard Snape had to physically restrain Sirius from coming to look for you."

"I'm sorry," said Harry contritely. "I just... I needed some air after... you know... after what Moody said."

"I don't blame you mate," said Fred, directing a curious glance at Tom who was sitting still. 

"Let's go back." Harry rose and nodded to Tom. "Thanks for the coffee, Tom."

When Harry turned to look at Tom before turning the corner, he'd vanished.


	34. Chapter 34

Tom lay on the grass, staring up at the sky. This place held memories for him. Memories which he wasn't proud of. Nagini slithered in the grass, looking for field mice. If he turned his head to the side, he could see the silhouette of the ruins of his father's house. He closed his eyes. 

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," he whispered. Somehow the name didn't sound too bad. 

"Tom Riddle," he tried again. This time too, no surge of anger or hatred or contempt came to him.

He opened his eyes. The starlit sky stretched above him, vast and infinite. He seemed so insignificant compared to that vastness.

What was happening to him?

"At the wrong place at the wrong time... just like Cedric!" Harry's words rang in his ears. 

"Don't kill Cedric!" He remembered Harry mumbling in his nightmares.

Cedric. He had never once, in the months since his resurrection, given a thought to the boy who was with Harry that night at the graveyard. He remembered him. He could not have been older than seventeen, thought Tom. And he'd never see his eighteenth birthday, because he just happened to stray across Tom's path.

Tom had not even known his last name or anything about him. But he'd found out. He'd gone about finding all he can about the boy he'd murdered so casually. Tom now knew his last name was Diggory and that he'd been an only child. Tom had learned that he'd been a Hufflepuff and a Prefect. He'd read of his performances in the Triwizard Cup, a footnote to Harry's successes. Detailed accounts had been published only after his death. Tom had visited his grave too. But he'd run back here almost immediately, because he could not bear it to stand there, knowing just what he'd done.

And now he lay here, where he'd done his first murder, at the age of sixteen. But no, he'd killed before, hadn't he? He'd killed that girl at school, when he was fifteen. Of course it was the Basilisk that killed her, but it was Tom who'd freed the Basilisk. It was so long ago, Tom could not even remember her name or what she looked like. She too was in the wrong place at the wrong time. In that bathroom just as he was coming out of the chamber with the Basilisk. 

Tom rose slowly and looked at the Riddle House. He remembered the muggle he'd killed. Frank Bryce. He'd got the name from an old muggle newspaper. Tom looked up at the sky again and sighed. Why couldn't he have waited till that girl left the bathroom before coming out of the chamber? Why couldn't he have just stunned Cedric Diggory? Why couldn't he have just obliviated Frank Bryce? Why had his first instinct always been to kill?

He looked down at his toes. He had to go back. He'd been away too long. And the Azkaban break-out was planned for the next day. Of course, his Death-Eaters would go ahead with the plan in his absence too, but it was not right. He was their leader. He'd got them all into this. He had to be there. 

That was why he'd possessed her and sent Nagini to the ministry, to spy on the security details for Azkaban. To confirm that none but Dementors would be on guard duty there on the day they had planned.

He called Nagini to him in Parseltongue. But she was in a playful mood. He waited patiently, not prepared to play games. She slithered upto him, sulking.

"I'm sorry," he murmured as he stroked her. "But this is important."

He tried not to think of Harry or what he'd say about what he was planning to do. Though he had given instructions that no one was to be hurt, he knew circumstances often went beyond their control. Perhaps Harry was right. Perhaps hurting others was all he knew to do. But he was determined to try and not do that. And not let his followers do that either.

He took one last look at his father's old house and disapparated.


	35. Chapter 35

Harry was wandering aimlessly in Hogsmeade. It was Valentine's Day and everywhere he looked, couples were roaming hand-in-hand. Cho Chang had hinted that she wanted to spend the day with him, but Harry had ignored the hint. He liked Cho, but not in that way. Kissing her in the Room of Requirement had proved it to him.

He thought about the Azkaban break-out. It had been silent and smooth as per the prophet report. The Dementors had changed sides. There were no wizard guards in Azkaban. No one had got hurt. But the worst of Tom's supporters were now free.

Harry tried to divert his thoughts from Tom. He'd not seen or heard from Tom since the day he'd left him in a muggle cafe. Harry had actually felt bad about what he said to Tom that day. He hadn't even given Tom a chance to explain. He'd been worried, thinking that Tom might be feeling sad. And he'd not even wished Tom for his birthday. Not that he knew when Tom's birthday was till Dumbledore had told him two days before New Year. The Head master had also explained to him that a meeting could be arranged if he wished, but Harry had made some excuse regarding homework. 

Well, it seemed he had worried about nothing. All this time, Tom was only plotting to break his followers out of Azkaban.

In addition to that, the Occlumency lessons with Snape were taking their toll. So far, he'd been able to stop Snape from seeing any of his memories with Tom. But Harry knew it was not his skill at Occlumency, but Snape's own inclination that kept it so. He had no idea how to guard his mind. And emptying his mind did not help. He was not able to empty it. Not when he was so discombobulated, what with his anger for Snape, his worry about Tom and a million other things. Sirius was back in the castle and was hiding in Snape's quarters again. Harry met him occasionally after his Occlumency lessons. On such days, emptying his mind had worked much better. But he knew better than to tell Snape that his godfather be allowed in their lessons.

He did not know how it was, but Umbridge and her inquisitorial squad seemed to leave him and his friends well alone these days. Perhaps, they felt that he was no longer a threat since Dumbledore was not in the school anymore. Even Malfoy seemed to have lost interest in taunting him or Ron. Slytherins still broke into "Weasley is our King," when they saw Ron coming, but never when Malfoy was around. Ron had griped about that. He was certain Malfoy was planning something even worse. 

Harry grimaced. He did not know if his Occlumency was working, because he'd not had any dreams on the night of the Azkaban breakout. He'd not even felt Tom's joy or relief. He kicked a stone moodily. He did not want to think of Tom and yet, it all came back to it. 

Harry was so engrossed in his thoughts that he bumped into someone. 

"Tom!" He was stunned. How had Tom known it was a Hogsmeade weekend? Who had told him?

"Harry," Tom nodded at him. "Care to join me for a walk?"

Harry nodded, "All right."

Tom looked rather pale, Harry noticed.

"Are you still angry with me, Harry?" Tom asked a bit hesitantly.

"I don't know," said Harry. "Maybe I'm more angry with myself for thinking you could change."

"Because I broke my people out of Azkaban?"

"They deserved to be there!"

"So do I," said Tom quietly. "Let's not forget that whatever they did, they did for me and because of me. If they're outcasts in the wizarding world, it's due to me. Not to let them rot in prison is the least I could do for them."

"Yea, right," muttered Harry. "As if you give a damn about them."

"Strangely, I do," said Tom. "I've told you before. I've changed."

"Not enough, apparently." Muttered Harry.

"Time will tell," said Tom, smiling.

Harry noticed they've reached the end of the village.

"This is where I must part ways with you," said Tom still smiling. "Don't let Umbridge or Severus or anyone hold you back from doing your best in your OWLs. Decide what you want to do after school and plan accordingly. They'll give you career advice at school, but it won't hurt to be prepared in advance."

"I want to be an Auror," said Harry.

"And you'll make a good one. But you'll need to brush up on your potions for that. I don't think Severus accepts anyone who's got anything less than an O into his NEWT classes."

Harry groaned. "Just what I need. More lessons with Snape."

Tom laughed. And Harry too smiled a bit reluctantly.

"Show me your hand," said Tom.

Harry held out his hand. Tom took it, examining the scars. "They'll fade in time," said he, dropping Harry's hand and pulling him closer. Harry did not resist as Tom lifted his face to his own. He closed his eyes as Tom bent down. Tom's lips brushed Harry's forehead above his scar.

"Goodbye Harry," Tom's voice was husky.

Harry looked at Tom. "Are you ever going to kiss me properly?"

Tom smiled. "Someday, when you're no longer fifteen, if you still want me to."

He released Harry and moved away. "Bye Harry,"

"Bye Tom," Harry murmured, looking at the spot where Tom disapparated.


	36. Chapter 36

Tom looked at the flowers in his hand before he bent down and placed them on his father's grave. He could not apologize for what he did. Apologies no longer sufficed. He did not know if anything did anymore. 

He walked into the empty house. It was just as dilapidated as it had been the last time he'd been here. He shook his head and disapparated to the Gaunt abode.

His mother's house-little better than a shack-was in better condition than his father's. Probably because magic went into its construction. Magic of the Gaunts, who had descended from Slytherin himself. He had prided himself on the fact once. No, prided was not the word. He'd been arrogant, he'd believed he was special, that being Slytherin's heir entitled him to having whatever he wanted.

He lifted his wand and started casting a complicated ward that would keep anyone out and would also soundproof the house. He did not want any muggle coming to investigate the screams and then be impaled on his wards. After a moment's deliberation, he modified the wards. They would not kill anyone now, but would only keep them out.

He looked at the floor boards. The ring was there. The ring he'd taken from his uncle. His uncle whom he'd framed for his father's death. His uncle whose memory he'd modified. His uncle who died in Azkaban.

Tom lay down on the dusty floor and put his wand aside. He knew what was coming. And he knew there was no stopping it or making it easier. He could not remember all those he'd killed or even how many there were. But some stood in stark relief. His father, that girl in the bathroom, Hepzibah Smith, Frank Bryce, Cedric Diggory, Bertha Jorkins, Harry's parents, that elf who belonged to Regulus on whom he'd tested the potion protecting his locket.... Tom sighed. The list of his murders was endless, but he really was not prepared to go to Azkaban for them.

Incongruously, he thought of the rabbit. He could not remember the name of the boy whom it belonged to. But he remembered the rabbit. Its ears laid back in fear and eyes wide, as he had strangled it and hung it from the rafter. He also thought of the two small kids he'd terrorized in the cave. 

Had there never been a time in his life when he wasn't evil?

He thought of Regulus, full of idealism about pure-blood supremacy; it had not taken him long to realize that the way to bring about it was a lot harsher. He thought of Quirrel, who’d been prepared to share his soul with him. And he’d left him to die…. He thought of Hagrid, not the man, but the boy, bumbling, good-natured, naïve… and he’d ensured Hagrid would always be an outcast….

When the pain started, Tom welcomed it. At least, the pain would stop him from thinking. He'd suffered pain before, but the killing curse rebounding was nothing compared to the pain of his soul putting itself back together.

Tom screamed aloud, the pain too excruciating and debilitating to worry about anything else. Fortunately, the wards he'd placed around the house held, though he was not in a position to be thankful for that.

Tom had no idea how long it continued. He saw flashes of the people he'd killed, of the objects he'd turned into Horcruxes. He saw-

"Harry," he whispered as realization hit, which even the pain could not swamp. Harry was a Horcrux! His Horcrux that he never intended to make. And now he knew why Harry could see into his mind, could share his dreams, could speak Parseltongue.

"Harry!" He screamed as the agony caused him to black out.

When he came to, it was dark. Tom lay still, knowing it still wasn't over. It was only waiting for him to be fully conscious. He screamed aloud as the pain started again.


	37. Chapter 37

Harry quailed before the look of demented fury on Snape's face. He knew he probably shouldn't have looked into the pensieve, but somehow, he had not been able to prevent himself.

"You think you can poke your nose anywhere, don't you?" Snape asked through tightly clenched teeth. His hand was still gripped tightly around Harry’s upper arm. Harry was surprised he'd not already hexed Harry into oblivion. He certainly looked angry enough.

"What the hell!" Exclaimed Sirius as he came in from the inner rooms. "What's going on here? Harry? Are you all right?"

Snape released Harry, almost flinging him away and Sirius caught him, stopping him from falling. Harry clung to Sirius like a lifeline. But somehow, Sirius' proximity did nothing to soothe him. After all, what he'd just seen in Snape's pensieve was not a very attractive side of Sirius. And that was quite an understatement.

"I'm okay, Sirius," he muttered. "It's my fault, really." He took a deep breath and looked at Snape. "I'm really sorry, Professor. I did not mean-"

"I'm not interested in what you meant, Potter!" Snape's voice was throbbing with fury, his fists so tightly clenched his knuckles stood out white. "You just had to poke your nose in, didn't you?"

"That's out of line, Snape!" Growled Sirius.

"You're the one out of line here, Black!" Snarled Snape. "Potter is my student and you're in my office!"

"Harry's my godson!" Sirius was fast losing his temper. "And I don't like the tone you take with him!"

"This is my office!" Hissed Snape. "If you have an issue with my tone, I suggest you shove it down your ass!"

Harry gasped. He'd never heard Snape swear before.

"Let's settle this here, Snivellus!" Said Sirius, pulling out his wand, thrusting Harry aside.

"With pleasure, Black!" Snape's wand was out too.

"No!" Harry shouted as he jumped between them. There was a familiar sense of Deja vu here, except he knew no Arthur Weasley was going to come through the door to save the day.

"Stay out of this, Potter," said Snape as with a flick of his wand, the lock of the door clicked shut.

"Get out of the way, Harry," said Sirius, equally white-faced and tight-lipped.

Harry did not move. "Please... professor! Sirius!"

Neither men relaxed their posture.

Then pain seared across Harry's scar and Harry collapsed on to the ground, clutching his head. He was hardly aware of Sirius shouting his name. His scar was exploding in pain. It felt as if someone was cleaving his head through his scar. 

"What's happening?" Sirius was feeling panicked. 

Snape was bent down over Harry, his hand prising Harry's hands apart from his scar. He frowned as Harry let out a scream of agony. He turned to Sirius. "I need to get him to the hospital wing. You get McGonagall. And for Merlin's sake, stay inside here! I'll bring you news of his condition."

"He's my Godson! He needs me!" Said Sirius, mutinous.

"He needs to know you're safe!" Snapped Snape. "Don't forget Umbridge is here in the school! Use your head for once!"

Sirius drew a deep breath and muttered, "Shouldn't we get Dumbledore?"

Snape had already conjured a stretcher and had levitated Harry onto it. 

"Dumbledore is not here, in case you've forgotten. And we cannot just call him. We need to get Umbridge distracted in order to inform him. And that is not an easy thing. But we need to inform Potter's Head of House first." 

Snape was conjuring some straps to keep Harry securely bound even as he was speaking. He then put a silencing charm on the boy just to make sure his screaming won't attract any unnecessary attention.

"Now, if you could just stay hidden inside, I could open the door and take him to the hospital wing."

Sirius was not happy, but he complied. He went to the inner room and contacted McGonagall, telling her Harry collapsed during his remedial potions lessons and that Snape had taken him to the hospital wing. Then he locked the door and stayed inside, his head between his hands.


	38. Chapter 38

Snape took Harry out of the room, noticing with relief that the corridor was deserted. He did not want anyone to see what was happening to Potter.

"Professor?" It was Malfoy. Snape sighed. He should have known his luck would not last. He glared at Malfoy. "Yes, Malfoy?"

"What happened to Potter?"

"An unfortunate side effect of a potion he brewed wrongly. The fumes that he ingested has caused this reaction. I'm taking him to the hospital wing now."

Malfoy kept following him. "Is there anything you require, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco shook his head. And then he turned around and went in the direction of the Slytherin common room. Snape sighed in relief as Malfoy left. He took Potter through the longest route, thereby avoiding all students altogether. He was worried, but also irritated. Potter just had to choose this time to have a breakdown. But the trace of Dark Magic that he'd sensed in his initial scan worried him. He knew Madam Pomfrey would not be able to help Potter. But expert in Dark Magic and curses as he was, he too did not know what it was that caused this reaction. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought Potter was a receptacle for a soul fragment that was now being put together. But that was impossible. He needed Dumbledore. The Headmaster might know what was actually wrong with Potter.

As soon as they reached the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey came running. 

"What happened to him?" She asked as she levitated Harry on to a bed and put up a screen to hide his thrashing form from view. Snape lifted the silencing charm he'd cast earlier and Harry's scream tore through the quiet of the hospital wing.

"Merlin!" McGonagall who rushed in stopped short. "What's wrong with him?" She sounded faint.

"I have no idea." Snape said. "I think we need the Head Master."

McGonagall drew a sharp breath. "We need to find a way to stop him from screaming. And we need to distract that woman. Does anybody know you've brought Potter here?"

"Draco Malfoy saw me," said Snape.

"Then Umbridge will be here soon," muttered McGonagall.

"I think not," said Snape as with a wordless incantation, he soundproofed the hospital wing.

"He seems to be in agony!" Said Madam Pomfrey, examining the boy. "We need to get him to St. Mungo's. This is beyond me."

"Give him the strongest pain-killing potion you have," said Snape. "We'll decide on St. Mungo's later."

"Severus, we can't take him to St. Mungo's." Said McGonagall in a fierce whisper.

"I know," said Snape. 

"And how am I supposed to make him drink the potion?" Asked a disgruntled Madam Pomfrey. 

Snape tapped his wand against Harry's head and Harry's face went slack. He  stopped screaming. Madam Pomfrey tipped the potion on to his mouth, massaging his throat to ease it down. Harry started stirring soon after, but though he still was in obvious pain, he was no longer screaming. His teeth were tightly clenched as he gripped the sides of the bed in an attempt not to thrash about.

Snape steered McGonagall to a corner of the room. "We need the Head Master," he repeated.

"That's easier said than done," she muttered. "How certain are you that Malfoy won't tip off Umbridge?"

"Draco has very specific and strict orders from the Dark Lord that he's to do everything in his power to divert Umbridge's attention from Potter." Replied Snape.

"Why would You-know-who do something like that?"

"I'm not privy to his reasons. But Draco has got his instructions directly from the Dark Lord and he shall do nothing contrary to that."

"We still need to distract her."

"Perhaps you should use-ah-the talents of the Weasley twins for that," suggested Snape delicately.

"Use my students?" McGonagall looked outraged.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," said Snape silkily.

McGonagall shook her head adamantly. "I shall not drag my students into this."  
She turned to look at Harry. "We shall have to find some other way."

"We're running out of time- and options," he muttered. "He's your golden boy. Personally, I don't give a damn how much pain he's in." As long as it doesn't threaten his life, he added silently. Which was why he needed Dumbledore. If whatever Potter was going through was not life-threatening, he could go back to his quarters.

"He seems to have lost consciousness," said Madam Pomfrey. The other two went to the bed. Harry was unconscious. But his breathing was even and he was not thrashing around.

Snape skimmed his wand over Harry. "I think it is past," said he, frowning. There was no longer any trace of the Dark Magic he'd sensed earlier. He really had no explanation for what happened except for the impossible one. 

"How do you know?" Asked McGonagall sharply.

"There was," Snape frowned. "A dark energy around his scar... But it is gone now. I think whatever happened to him, is over. He'll probably be fine after a proper night's sleep."

"I'll give him some dreamless sleep potion," said Madam Pomfrey, sounding relieved.

"And I shall inform Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger before they start getting worried," said McGonagall.

Snape nodded. He too needed to get back to his quarters. Black might be waiting for some news. 

But Snape still wondered what had really happened to Potter.


	39. Chapter 39

Tom stirred and pushed himself up. His whole body was sore, aching and stiff. He rose weakly, stumbling and holding on to the wall for support. He was feeling dizzy and nauseous.

He stood a little bit straighter and closed his eyes. He drew a few deep breaths, rotating his head. He opened his eyes again and slowly took halting steps towards the door. He nearly stepped on his wand. He stooped to pick it up and started removing the wards and charms around the house. 

He opened the door and stepped out. It was dark. He wondered how much time might have elapsed. A simple spell told him it had been only two days. He smiled weakly. Two days. But he'd suffered a lifetime of pain within those two days.

He straightened himself. His dizziness and nausea were gone. He felt -whole, complete, in a way he'd not felt since he was sixteen. But his work was far from complete. He'd promised Harry that he would vindicate him. People thought him a liar because he told the truth that people in power did not want to hear. He would prove Harry was no liar. 

He was aware he was hungry. No wonder. He had been starving for two days. He apparated straight to Malfoy Manor. Fortunately, the Malfoys were still awake. They expressed concern over his disappearance for two days and immediately got their house elves to run him a bath and to bring him food.

Tom was feeling more like himself after the bath and dinner. But he was also sleepy. He went to bed, concocting plans for the morrow. He had to be careful and he had to move fast. His plan had to be put into motion before his followers became restless and did something rash.

Tom knew Harry had shared part of his pain. So had Nagini. While creating a Horcrux with a sentient being was easy and painless, to draw the piece of soul out was excruciatingly painful for the soul receptacle as well. Which was one among the reasons why one generally used only inanimate objects to be Horcruxes. Till Tom, no one had ever thought of using a living thing as a Horcrux. 

Of course, Harry was an accident. Tom had not intended to make him a Horcrux. But Nagini had been a conscious decision. Which reminded Tom. Where was she? She should have been here.

Tom called to her and received a weak reply from one corner. Tom went to her. Nagini was curled up in a dark corner, weak and tired after the ordeal she'd been through.

"I'm sorry," murmured Tom in Parseltongue, stroking her. "But you are free now."

Nagini snorted, but did not reply. 

Tom patted her and went back to his own bed.

He had to sleep. He needed a clear head to do what he planned to do. And the spell he had to use took a lot of concentration. 

Tom thought vaguely that if splitting the soul entailed as much pain as putting it back together, no one would have tried it. But it did make sense in a way. Splitting his soul was the decision of someone frightened of death, of pain. Putting it together was a validation of life. And like childbirth, it had to entail pain for the person to truly appreciate what a whole soul was like.

Tom sighed. He hoped Harry was okay. He also hoped Harry would understand and forgive him for what he was about to do.


	40. Chapter 40

"We're going to take over the ministry," he told them calmly and matter-of-factly. It had been a week since he'd put his soul back together. His Death-Eaters were all gazing avidly at him. His hood was off. The spell he had performed before leaving his room had changed his appearance to his previous snake-like one. It would last for only a few hours, but that was sufficient. 

His Death-Eaters looked pleased. 

"What is the plan, my Lord?" Bellatrix was almost crooning. He felt a twinge of pity for her. The damage he'd caused his followers' souls was not so easily repaired as his own. But he was determined that he would not let them sink any lower. He would not let them fall any further. That much he owed them. None of them were going to have happy endings, but he would make certain none of them ended in his service. 

"We take the ministry on a date I shall inform you later. The Dementors shall assist us. I myself shall pick the team. I, of course, shall lead the team. I shall share the details of the plan only to those accompanying me."

They all nodded. 

"Bella, Rodolphus, Rabastan, Antonin, Rookwood, Alecto, Amycus, Fenrir and Wormtail shall accompany me." He said now. The ones chosen looked happy, all except Wormtail who looked apprehensive. However, those who were not selected looked quite upset. 

"The rest of you shall remain here and await my instructions," he said calmly. "You all have your own roles to play."

They all looked happy at that.

Tom made a gesture to indicate that the meeting was over. His Death-Eaters dispersed and he was about to rise when he became aware that Snape was still there. He considered the man for a moment. Then he said. "Close the door, Severus and the usual enchantments."

Once Snape had finished warding the room, Tom spoke again, "Well?" 

"Is this wise, my Lord?"

Tom sat rigidly. "Why do you say that?"

"Dumbledore is not neutralized yet. If he comes to the ministry's aid, we might be outnumbered."

"Do you know where Dumbledore is Severus? After all, you are my spy."

Snape drew a deep breath, "My Lord," said he, "Dumbledore is on the run from the ministry. He is yet to contact us."

Tom's eyes bored into Snape's. Then he nodded. "Very well, Severus. But the fact that Dumbledore is on the run is what makes this the perfect time for a coup. By the time Dumbledore is alerted, the ministry would be in our hands."

"Dumbledore might choose to fight us," pointed out Snape.

"And I'm not afraid of that old fool!" Snarled Tom. "And I do not want any more objections. What information do you have for me, Severus? You do not have Dumbledore's location. You cannot give away the details of the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. What information have you?"

"Potter suffered a break-down a few days ago."

"I do not see how that is in anyway useful or relevant to our plans."

Snape stared at him in disbelief. Then he bowed. "Does this mean I can get rid of Sirius Black?"

"And expose your true loyalties? I think not. You have to wait for the right moment for such decisions, Severus."

Snape bowed again. But Tom saw the bleakness in his eyes as he turned to leave.


	41. Chapter 41

Harry, Ron and Hermione were all nervous by the time the last of their OWLs started. The last few weeks had been hectic with last-minute revisions and Harry felt as if he knew nothing and Ron was walking around, gaunt and hollow-eyed. Hermione drove them crazy by asking them about lessons neither of them could ever recall having learnt. The only relief was that almost all the students of their year were in the same state. Even Malfoy was looking slightly peaky.

“One more day, and we’re free!” Exulted Ron.

“Are you still practicing your Occlumency, Harry?” asked Hermione suddenly.

Harry grimaced. “No, Hermione. Why did you have to bring it up now?”

“Because it’s important.”

“How can I empty my mind when exams are going on?” asked Harry. “If I empty it any further, I will get a T in all the exams.”

Hermione pressed her lips to avoid smiling, and tried to look stern.

“Can we just think of History of Magic now?” asked Ron. “You can harangue Harry about his Occlumency after the OWL exam.”

“That just ruined all my pleasure in the exams getting over,” groaned Harry. 

“Don’t worry,” muttered Hermione. “I know a lost cause when I see one.”

Though from the way she still went on about the House-Elves, Harry doubted it.

History of Magic went along expected lines, that is Harry could not remember even half of Binns’ lessons and ended up mixing up names and dates, but still he got enough answers right that he hoped he could avoid a T. A D was going to look good.

After the exam, they sat near the lake, laughing and joking. Harry wondered if he dared go near Snape’s dungeons to meet Sirius. 

“Malfoy seems to be spying on us,” muttered Ron, darkly. “Of late, wherever we go, he’s also there. The git!”

“Ignore him,” said Hermione coolly. “He’s just hovering around. It’s not as if he’s trying to get us in trouble with Umbridge.”

“He’s still in the Inquisitorial squad, isn’t he?” Asked Ron, curiously.

“Might be,” said Hermione. “Why?”

“He hasn’t tried to dock points from us either, come to think of it,” remarked Ron. “Something’s really fishy.”

“Let’s not talk about Malfoy or Umbridge or OWLS,” said Harry, laying back in the grass and closing his eyes, feeling the warm sunshine on his face. “I just want to relax and not think of anything unpleasant.”

Ron followed suit, muttering “Hear! Hear!”

Hermione shook her head as she fished out a thick book from her bag and started reading.

Harry wondered idly what Tom might be doing. Ever since the day he collapsed in Snape’s office, he’d not had a single dream of Tom. It was as if whatever connection between them was gone. Not that he minded. It was good, he told himself. It was good that Tom was not in his head any longer.

But he missed Tom. Not the weird dreams or the strange connection, but Tom, the person. Tom did mean something to him, he knew. But he did not want to figure out what exactly he meant. He yawned. He was feeling sleepy. The afternoon was warm and the gentle breeze had soon put Harry into a doze and then into a sleep.

He lay there till Ron shook him awake just as the sun was setting. Harry went straight to the dormitory, crawled into bed and fell asleep immediately. 

Harry woke suddenly, sitting up and looking around. He was on his bed in the Gryffindor dormitory. Night had fallen outside, he could see. He looked around and saw Ron was on his bed, snoring away.

Harry was confused. What woke him? He could not remember. 

He lay back down with a yawn and closed his eyes, trying to remember. He had a dream, it was not one of his usual dreams, but it had been no less crazy. It was the dream that had woken him. In his dream he, Ron and Hermione were asleep by the lake. Then, Tom was there and he was levitating him and his friends into the Gryffindor dormitories before jumping into the lake as a merman.

Harry closed his eyes, and soon drifted back to sleep.


	42. Chapter 42

The next morning brought Harry the biggest surprise of his life. They found the Great Hall in an uproar when they went down for breakfast. But what Harry saw first was Dumbledore, sitting calmly at the Staff table. Umbridge was not to be seen anywhere and sitting next to Dumbledore was-  
“Sirius!” He exclaimed.

Sirius seemed to be in some animated conversation with Dumbledore, but Harry wondered if he was dreaming. How could Sirius be sitting here, so openly? How and when did Dumbledore come back? And where was Umbridge?

The reason became self-evident as soon as they sat down for breakfast and Hermione opened her Daily Prophet.

“He- Who- Must- Not -Be- Named Back!” Screamed the headline. 

“Failed Coup at Ministry: You-know-who and his supporters escaped” Read the sub-heading. 

There was a detailed account of how Tom and a handful of his supporters tried to overthrow the ministry of magic, but was foiled by the timely intervention of Albus Dumbledore and his Order of the Phoenix. 

“Here’s an article about you,” said Hermione sourly. “About how you stuck to the truth in spite of persecution.” She sounded angry.

“And here’s one about Sirius,” said Ron. “It says a dozen eye-witnesses saw Pettigrew fighting alongside You-know-who and the ministry has issued a full pardon to Sirius.”

“And Dumbledore has been reinstated as Head Master and into the Wizengamot. All Umbridge’s decrees had been repealed and she’s under suspension pending enquiry for using an illegal Black Quill for punishments during her term in Hogwarts.” Read Harry.

They were all silent for a while, Harry finally taking in the fact that Sirius was free. He no longer had to hide. Everyone knew Tom was back now, that Harry had not been lying. Everything was fine, except-

“How did they know it was him?” Asked Harry as he pulled the paper towards him, to read the details of the failed coup. “He did not look like Voldemort.”

But there weren’t enough details in the newspaper. It said details were coming in and only the bare minimum of facts were available. A demand for Fudge to be sacked had also been raised and it seemed Fudge would need to step down from his post.

From the account, it seemed, Tom and some of his Death-Eaters had suddenly entered the ministry and had stunned the ministry officials in the atrium. Aurors had been called, but the Dementors had attacked them, and the Death-Eaters had successfully penetrated into the other levels when Dumbledore arrived alongwith a few of the Order members. There had been a pitched battle with no casualties, but you-know-who’s followers were losing and then suddenly, the Death-Eaters all disapparated. 

Harry frowned as he read the account. The account seemed to miss a lot by way of details. He wondered if he would get a chance to speak to Dumbledore when the Head Master rose.

The Hall fell silent as they waited for him to speak.

“I know you have all seen the newspaper today.” He began. “We have troubled times ahead of us. And I would urge you to stay calm, to stay united and to help each other, whenever you can.”

He sat down and Harry turned back to the newspaper, scowling.


	43. Chapter 43

Tom stood on the deserted beach. He was waiting for Dumbledore. He frowned. The man was late.

There was hardly a sound as Dumbledore appeared at the other side of the beach. He walked towards Tom, who stood where he was.

“Tom,” said Dumbledore. “What now?”

“All those who were with me for the attack on the ministry are now out of the country, except Fenrir. They shall never return to this country. And I’ve made it clear to them that whatever they do in those countries will be entirely on them and they’ll have to deal with the consequences.”

“And how did they take that?”

“Not very well. But they know they have no option. I believe they will behave. I have also arranged for the contents of the Lestranges’ vault in Gringotts to be transferred to the country where they are right now.”

"Their crimes deserve punishment," said Dumbledore.

"The years they spent in Azkaban is punishment enough. Give them a chance to be different. Maybe they'll surprise you."

“And Greyback?”

“He’s locked in the Malfoys’ dungeon with instructions to be delivered to you.” He looked at Dumbledore in the eyes. “Wizards are responsible for his viciousness, Albus. I expect you to help him, not turn him over to the ministry to stand trial like a common criminal!”

“He deliberately attacks children, Tom.”

“If werewolves were not marginalized and isolated by wizards, he would never have needed to. Not everyone is as lucky as Lupin, Dumbledore. Fenrir was alone. He had no loving family or friends. There was no support system in place for him.”

"Point taken Tom,” sighed Dumbledore. “I shall do whatever I can for him.”

“Thank you.”

“What about the Dementors?”

“I freed them,” Tom’s voice was calm, but he could see the shock on Dumbledore’s face.

“You what?”

“Freed them,” repeated Tom.

“They’ll be all over the world Tom.”

“Yes, but they’ve sworn a Binding Oath never to band together or attack anyone, wizard or muggle. They also swore never to suck anyone’s soul again.”

“Well,” said Dumbledore, “that would not stop them from sucking happiness out of people.”

“They’ll do that as they move around,” conceded Tom. “But it is their nature. They can’t help it. It’s how they survive. You can’t blame them for it.”

There was a sheen of pride in Dumbledore’s eyes as he looked at Tom. “You have become the wizard you were born to be.”

Tom snorted. “You're just as foolish as ever. After all the things I did at one time, one might think you'd know better.” He paused. “You won’t try and hound the rest of my men? All they did was attend meetings."

“You have my word.”

“And you won’t tell Harry anything about this.”

"Not now." Said Dumbledore. "But he does deserve to know the truth. " he paused. "You could have taken over the ministry, Tom. You had the strength. You prevented your people from casting Unforgivables. You made me aware of the situation through Severus. I think you planned this whole thing."

Tom shrugged. "It seemed the best solution for all our problems, though even I did not expect it to go so smoothly."

Dumbledore nodded. "Armado Dippet would be proud."

Tom felt a prickle behind his eyes as he thought of his old Head Master. "Yes. He would be. If he's as foolish as you."

"I won't tell Harry immediately if that's what you are afraid of," said Dumbledore softly. "But someday he has to know."

Tom made no answer. It was a relief knowing that someday Harry would know the truth. 

Snape appeared. “Head Master,” said he. “It’s time to return.”

“Severus,” murmured Tom. “You were his man all along, weren’t you?”

Snape said nothing.

“Tom,” said Dumbledore, “Are you leaving the country too?”

Tom smiled. “If I didn’t tell you my plan, you wouldn’t need to lie to Harry about them. Can I have a private word with Severus?”

Dumbledore nodded and moved away. Snape looked at Tom. “What do you want?”

“One last favour from you, Severus.” Tom took out a slender sealed box from his pocket. “Give this to Harry.”

Snape took it. “Why me? Why not Dumbledore?”

“Because I don’t want Dumbledore to guess what it is. Don’t let him see it.”

Snape secreted it into his pocket. “Is that what I think it is?”

“It might be,” said Tom. “Good-bye Severus. I cannot undo what I did, but you could try to open your heart again.”

“Not interested,” said Snape. "My heart has no room for anyone else."

"How do you know unless you try? Also, please give a message to Black from me."

"Why me again?"

Tom ignored the question. "Tell him to be nice to his House-Elf. His brother loved it. And he's all the family that Elf has left too."

Snape sighed. "Do you honestly think he's going to care?"

"One never knows. Did you ever think I would turn out like this?"

Snape nodded. "True."

Snape went to where Dumbledore stood and the two wizards disapparated together. Tom stood there, watching for a minute, before he started walking away.


	44. Chapter 44

Harry sat before Dumbledore. "So, I don't have to go back to the Dursleys any more?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, Harry. Voldemort is gone forever this time."

"But Tom escaped," said Harry.

"Yes, but you need not worry about that anymore. He shall never come near you again."

"And Sirius is free," murmured Harry. "I can stay with him."

Dumbledore smiled. "I believe Sirius is already on a frenzy of cleaning his house in anticipation of you moving in."

Harry chuckled. "I can't imagine Sirius cleaning his house."

"I believe he got Kreacher to help."

"Kreacher?" Harry was surprised.

"Yes, Harry, Kreacher." Smiled Dumbledore. "Sirius decided to make peace with him and to treat him with kindness and respect as I have been trying to impress upon him for long."

"It all worked out well in the end," said Harry. He tried not to think of Tom. Dumbledore had told him Tom would never come near him again. He had also told Harry that whatever connection there was between Tom and him through his scar was no longer there. But he had refused to elaborate on the nature of the connection.

"Not yet, Harry," Dumbledore had said. "Later, when you are old enough."

Harry had looked mutinous and Dumbledore had said soothingly. "There are some things, understanding which requires more maturity than fifteen. I shall tell you all I know one day, I promise."

Harry had to be content with that.

The next few weeks were hectic with Harry moving in with Sirius and Ron and Hermione coming to visit. Sirius was happier than Harry ever remembered seeing him and he laughed and smiled often. Kreacher too had changed. Perhaps it was being away from Grimmauld Place that did it, but he was dressed in clean clothes and was polite to all of them, even Hermione. 

Remus came to visit too, and Harry and his friends listened to tales about the Marauders' adventures. Most of them were funny and Harry particularly enjoyed the Motorcycle story where his dad and Sirius had been chased by Muggle policemen.

Harry had asked them about what he saw in the pensieve and both Sirius and Lupin looked uncomfortable. But their regret over the incident was quite genuine and Harry decided to accept the fact that his father and Sirius had been arrogant bullies at one point, but had changed.

Remus told them he had got a job. Dumbledore had campaigned actively for werewolf rights and for integrating them into the wizard world and to provide Wolfsbane to them free of cost. Though there were reactionary elements that resisted the reforms, Dumbledore's influence and popularity had never been higher and the anti-werewolf legislations were repealed and the new legislation was passed. Lupin told them he was going to Hogwarts to teach Defence Against Dark Arts again. 

It was the best summer Harry ever had. 

The night before term was about to start, Sirius came to his room. "Do you remember asking me about any childhood friends of your mother?"

Harry nodded. 

"There is one," said Sirius. "He knew her from the first year, maybe even before that. They kind of fell out in our fifth year, but till then, they were very good friends."

Harry sat up eagerly. "Who is it?"

Sirius chuckled. "You won't thank me for telling you his name."

Harry frowned. "Who is it?"

"It is Snape, Harry. That was one reason why James was particularly vicious towards him."

Harry wanted to refute, to tell him that he was wrong, Snape had called his mother Mudblood, they could not have been friends. But he could see the expression on Sirius' face. 

"Thank you for telling me," said he. Perhaps he could try and be nice to Snape. Not so difficult now that Snape would no longer be his teacher. His OWL results had come and he'd got only an E in potions. Which meant his dream of being an Auror was not going to materialize anyway.

Sirius had shrugged. "There are other careers," he had said. "There's no need to lose hope."

Harry knew there were other careers, but none of them would be like being an Auror.

He got his first surprise of the term when Professor McGonagall was handing out time tables. 

"Why hadn't you opted for potions, Potter? It was my understanding you wanted to be an Auror?"

"I got only an E" Harry pointed out. 

"I know, but Professor Snape has relaxed his hitherto stringent criteria. There weren't enough students with an O in potions to continue on to NEWT. So he has agreed to take those with E as well. "

"But we had not got books or potion ingredients," Harry said hesitantly.

McGonagall smiled as she handed over two packages. 

"Sirius had them sent here last night after he learned of the changed circumstance." 

She tapped her wand to a blank time table and gave it to Harry. He saw that it now had all his new subjects. He had a free period and then DADA.

"Professor?" He asked. "May I be excused?"

She looked at him curiously but nodded.

Harry made his way, not to Gryffindor Tower but to Snape's offices, having decided to beard the lion in his den before he lost his courage. He was a Gryffindor after all. And Snape was his mother's friend. Now that he was going to be in Snape's class, it might be better to clear the air between them.

Snape looked surprised at seeing him, but not angry, which Harry took as a good sign.

"What is it Potter?" He asked impatiently. "I have a class coming up."

"Sirius told me you and my mom were friends," said Harry, speaking in a rush. "I was wondering if you could... tell me about her...."

His voice trailed off. Snape stood still, an inscrutable expression on his face. Then he gave an infinitesimal nod. Harry smiled widely.

"Don't expect preferential treatment in class because of it," said Snape as he took something out of his desk. He handed over the slender box to Harry.

"The Dark Lord asked me to give this to you."

Harry took the box with some trepidation. It was long and slender and with shaking hands, he broke the seal and opened it. He stared at the object that lay inside.

He took it out, his hands trembling. "It's his wand," said he stupidly. "What does it mean?"

"It means he's never coming back," said Snape. "I have to go to my class." 

"Yes, of course." Said Harry mechanically as he put the wand back in the box and turned to leave.

"Harry," said Snape. It was the first time he ever used Harry's first name. "I think he really cared for you."

"Thank you," whispered Harry before he fled to Gryffindor Tower. Back in his dormitory, he took the wand out again. "Thirteen and a half inches. Yew." He remembered Ollivander's words when he was first buying his own wand. His fingers caressed Tom's wand. His brain told him to break it into pieces, that it was the wand that killed his parents, that gave him his scar, that killed Cedric and countless others. But Harry's heart knew that it was the only remnant he had of Tom. He put it back in its box and put the box inside his trunk.

He took off his glasses and wiped his eyes and he put them back again. He was in Hogwarts with his friends, he was going to be an Auror and he was living with his godfather.

Life just couldn't get any better for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is! The last chapter posted. I did write an epilogue of sorts, but not posting it unless u guys feel it is really required! Thank you all for reading and commenting and for leaving kudos.


	45. Epilogue: Twenty Years Later

"Thanks for the hand, Tom," Mark smiled in gratitude. 

"What are neighbours for?" Tom smiled as he washed his hands.

Tom had come there two years ago. And he's really been a blessing to the small farming community. He was cheerful, pleasant and was always prepared to lend a hand. 

Tom had just helped Mark in a delivery. Mark looked at the cow and the calf. They were both fine. But Mark knew he couldn't have managed it without Tom. Mark had broken his arm last week and there was a storm raging, and Becky was not well either, so they couldn't go get the vet. The telephone lines were down which often happened during such storms. So they had sent Miles, their eldest, to Tom, who was their nearest neighbour. Tom had come immediately and had done everything exactly as Mark had directed him.

And now Tom was washing his hands and Mark said, "Come into the house, Tom. You could stay the night. We've room to spare. No need to go back in the storm."

"The storm doesn't bother me," said Tom, grinning. "But my pet gets a bit restless by herself. And you don't want a restless snake in your neighbourhood."

"I'd forgotten about her," Mark confessed. "But come to the house and have a drink first. And take the flashlight when you go."

Tom's pet was not very popular when he first came there. And because of the snake, Tom too had been viewed with some apprehension when he first came. But very soon, both the snake and its master had become great favourites with the people there. Tom called the snake Nagini, which somehow seemed appropriate.

Tom thanked the Jarrods for the drink, took the flashlight and made his way back to his house. He liked the place and the people. He'd be sorry to leave it, but he never stayed at any one place more than three years. It would have aroused suspicions when people started noticing that Tom Riddle did not age. In the last twenty years, Tom had hardly changed. And that certainly would have attracted attention.

He hoped Nagini would not be too nervous. Of course it was not the same Nagini that had once housed a piece of his soul. She'd died a long time ago. Snakes didn't live that long, even without wizards attempting to possess them. The present Nagini was the first Nagini's grand-daughter. Her mother was called Nagini too. Tom had not wanted to try a new name. So they'd all remained as Nagini. 

Tom's steps slowed as he approached his door. He distinctly remembered closing the door before he accompanied Miles. But it seemed the storm had blown it open again. In his hurry, he had not thought to lock it. 

He removed his raincoat and hung it in a peg near the door and entered the house, closing the door and bolting it. He switched on the light and stood still.

A man sat on the couch, Nagini was curled up next to him and he was stroking her head. He smiled at Tom. 

"She's new, not Nagini," said Harry.

Tom moved to where Harry was sitting, pulling a chair and sitting down on it, facing Harry. 

"No," he replied. "She died."

"But you call her Nagini."

Tom shrugged. "It seemed right." Tom was feeling a bit breathless. He wondered if he was dreaming. The night did have a surreal quality to it, the storm raging outside and Harry sitting in his living room... His eyes drank in the sight of Harry. He had grown and changed, but his eyes remained the same. And his hair was still messy. Tom's fingers itched to run themselves through that hair. He was tall, as tall as Tom. He was also loose-limbed and athletic. Tom wondered if he'd become an Auror like he wanted to. He wondered about Harry's personal life too, but he knew it was not his concern anymore, if it ever was in the first place.

"What are you doing here?" He asked Harry now.

Harry shrugged. "I came to see you."

"How did you find me?"

"I knew you were living as a muggle since you left your wand behind. So, I'd been looking for anyone answering to your description in any muggle community. I've been looking for you for over ten years, Tom. And your habit of suddenly disappearing from your homes was not helping either. But one of your previous neighbours told me about Nagini and actually, that's how I found you."

Harry spread a piece of paper before him. Tom saw that it was a printout of a blog written by Marjorie Seldon, one of the children in the village. That particular blog post was about Nagini. "The Tame Snake."

"You've been looking for me over ten years?" Asked Tom now.

"That's what I said."

"Why?" Asked Tom.

"Because you owe me a kiss," murmured Harry as he closed the gap between them. 

Tom was still for a moment as Harry's mouth pressed on his. Then with a groan, he opened his mouth and started kissing Harry back, his arms snaking around the other man. The need for air made them break the kiss, but they still held each other tight. Tom noticed rather hazily that he and Harry were on the couch and Nagini was on the chair. 

"I know the truth now, Tom," said Harry softly.

Tom stiffened. "Dumbledore told you?"

"Dumbledore and Severus, both. Dumbledore always told me I had to be old enough before I could be told. He finally told me last year."

"Last year." Repeated Tom stupidly. Perhaps it was not a big deal, but he could not explain to himself the rush of joy he felt at the realization that Harry had been looking for him even before learning the truth.

"Well, Tom?" Murmured Harry. "Where do we go from here?"

"I think it is entirely upto you," said Tom.

Harry released Tom and rose. He went to where he'd hung his coat and extracted something from inside it. Tom's mouth went dry as he saw what it was.

Harry held out the wand to him, "Will you accept it back, Tom? Will you come back with me?"

Tom took the wand, his hand shaking. His hands caressed the polished wood. How he'd missed it! He looked at Harry.

"You kept it," said he.

"It was all I had of you," said he.

Tom looked at Harry and he could not speak. His chest seemed to constrict with the sheer mass of emotions the other man evoked just by his presence. Tom put the wand down and took Harry in his arms.

"Anything you say, Harry," he said.

Harry kissed Tom again. He knew they both had questions, but that could wait. This couldn't. They'd both waited over twenty years for this.

Harry's life had definitely got a whole lot better right now.


End file.
